•NRLF 


3   I3t    574 


OFCALlfORNI 


6IFT  OP 
ROBERT" 
BELPHER 


SHADOWS 


BY 


GEORGE  K.  CAMP. 


OF 


SAN  FRANCISCO  : 

A.  L.   BANCROFT   &   COMPANY 
1885. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1885,  by 

GEORGE  K.  CAMP, 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


CONTENTS. 


FIXED    SHADOWS. 

RONDEAU^:  PAGE 

THE  REASON  WHY           ....  .11 

IN  THE  SNOW-FLAKES  I2 

SHE  SMILES  ON  ME          ...  13 

'Tis  ALL  FOR  THEE               .            .  14 

I  DO  NOT  CARE     ...                        .  •         I5 

'Tis  BUT  A  TEAR        ...  J6 

AH  ME  !      ...                        .  .17 

LOOK  UP          ....  l8 

FOREVER  TRUE      .                                                 .  T9 
WHEN  I  WAS  YOUNG 

JUST  SWEET  SIXTEEN       .           .                       .  .21 
IT  WAS  A  DREAM 
RONDELS  : 

SCATTER  THE  SHADOWS               ....  •        23 

MIGNONETTE                .                         .  24 
WHICH  SHALL  IT  BE? 
NOTHING          .... 

VlLLANELLES : 

WHICH  WERE  THE  BETTER?      ...  .27 

SWEET,  SAD  LOVE      ...                                     .  29 
THE  LAMENT  OF  THE  REJECTED           .....        31 


134836 


CONTENTS. 

TRIOLETS  :  PAGE 

WOOING  is  BAD          .                                   ....  33 

ONLY  A  ROSEBUD              .......  34 

SHADOWS          .           .                       .'....  35 

BLUE  EYES             ........  36 

IN  THE  MAY  WEATHER        .                        .                        .            .  3,7 

SONNETS : 

YOUTH'S  DREAM               .......  38 

LEE         .            .  39 

BALLADES : 

BALLADE  OF  DECEITFUL  WOMAN          .                        ...  40 

BALLADE  OF  COUNTRY  PLACES        .            .            .            .            .  42 

BALLADE  OF  THE  COLD  SEA       .                        .  44 

BALLADE  OF  THE  GOLDEN  WEST    .....  46 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

THAUMATURGUS      ........  51 

UNFINISHED       .  .......  54 

WAITING       .  •  •  57 

To  IDA  .........  59 

THE  COTTONWOOD  SCOURGE        .  .  ...  62 

AN  EMPTY  NECROPOLIS          .......  65 

To  MRS.  HATTIE  STEWART         ......  68 

THE  ICONOCLAST         .  .......  70 

LAQUELLE  ?  ........  82 

THE  PHANTOM  BARQUE          .......  83 

TOLL  THE  BFLI.      ........  85 

FATE 88 

REVERIES     .........  90 

MY  BOY  .........  92 

MISERERE  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  '  94 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

THE  HEART      .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .96 

To  ATLANTA           ........  98 

THE  DOVE  AND  THE  MAIDEN          ......  101 

THE  FEVER         •    .                                                                       .            .  102 

THE  BLOSSOM  AND  THE  BREEZE       ......  106 

BABY'S  PRAYER       ........  no 

LEGEND  OF  THE  KISSIMMEE              ......  112 

PAWNING  THE  PETTICOAT            .            .                         .            .            .  118 

OREGON  SUE      ....                         ....  126 

DEAD  MAN'S  BAR              ....  133 

THE  GROWL  OF  THE  GOLD-DIGGER  .  .  .  .  .138 

SONG  OF  THE  KLAMATH               .            .                                                  .  145 

"  TRANQUILLA"             ....                                  .           .  150 


SHADOWS    OF   DAWN. 

To  DELL      ......  .  155 

To  A  FALSE  CHARMER  .......  157 

FANCIES  IN  THE  FIRE        .......  159 

MY  SWEETHEART         ........  163 

HfcR  NAME  ........  165 

NEMESIS  .........  167 

SONG  OF  LIFE         ........  171 

STILL  WILL  I  HAPPY  BE  .  .  173 

THE  FATAL  PLEDGE          ...  ...  175 

BELLE .  .  .  180 

HEAVEN'S  ROSES  .......  181 

FAREWELL          .........  184 

WHOSE  is  SHE?      ...  ....  187 

A  SIGH  ON  THE  AIR  .......  190 


FAITHLES 


192 


FIXED    SHADOWS. 


^^TBKAR-^V 

f  OF  THE  \ 

(  UNIVERSITY  ) 

v        OF       y 

X&LIFORJi^ 


THE  REASON  WHY. 

THE  reason  why,  I  cannot  tell, 
Yet  bird,  and  breeze,  and   brook,  and  shell, 
The  same  sweet  song  sing  night  and  day, 
And  love  is  woven  in  the  lay, 
Like  perfume  in  a  blossom's  bell. 

I  feel  my  heart  expand  and  swell 
With  sweets  from  out  some  fairy  dell, 
But  naught  confides,  seek  as  I  may 
The  reason  why. 

There  is  a  maid  whose  eyes — ah,  well  ! 

They  light  her  red  lips'  hydromel, 
As  star  beams  over  roses   stray — 
Perhaps — though  mind  !    I  do  not  say — 

Perhaps  this  gentle  maid  might  tell 

The  reason  why. 


IN  THE  SNOW-FLAKES. 

IN  the  snow-flakes — in  the  wheeling 
Coronation  stands  she,  stealing 
Sly  and  saucy  looks  at  me, 
Looks  whose  half  I  only  see 
'Neath  her  white  lids'  swift  revealing. 

Still  I  catch  a  deeper  feeling 
(Which  the  lashes  fail  concealing), 
Goldening  futurity, 

In  the  snow-flakes. 

So  I  put  aside  appealing 

To  her  love  in  this  congealing 

Atmosphere,  and  ask  if  we 

Must  forever  parted  be  ? 
And  there  is  a  love's  annealing 

In  the  snow-flakes. 


SHE  SMILES  ON  ME. 

SHE  smiles  on  me,  but  in  her  downcast  eyes 
That  look  a  lullaby  of  silent  sighs 
The  silken,  soft,  and  drooping  lashes  under, 
A  pirate  lurks,  the  heart's  sweet  freight  to  plunder, 
And  then  to  cast  adrift  the  ravished  prize. 

Still,  like  a  cloud,  sun-kissed  to  dazzling  dyes, 
And  by  the  glory  blotted  from  the  skies, 

I  revel  in  her  rays;— yet  who  can  wonder ! 
She  smiles  on  me. 

I  know  the  swift  and  deadly  lightning  lies 
Behind  the  snowy  curtains'  deep  disguise; 

I  know  the  shackled  and  imprisoned  thunder, 
Will  rend  its  mute  environments  asunder, 
But  love  above  all  overthrow  shall  rise- 
She  smiles  on  me. 


'TIS  ALL  FOR  THEE. 

~"MS  all  for  thee — the  wild  unrest, 
X        The  dream-bird's  song  in  slumber's  nest, 
The  rapture  glowing  through  disguise 
When  in  my  clasp  thy  soft  palm  lies, 
And  love  stands  silently  confessed. 

My  heart  has  but  one  welcome  guest, 
With  one  fond  feeling  is  oppressed, 

For  when  it  sings  and  when  it  sighs, 
Tis  all  for  thee. 

When  like  a  low  wind  from  the  west 
That  breathes  the  prayer  it  knoweth  best, 

Impassioned  melodies  arise 

From  love's  sweet  lute— when  longing  eyes 
Droop  with  a  melting,  mute  request, 

'Tis  all  for  thee. 


I  DO  NOT  CARE. 

IDG  not  care — thy  chosen  path  pursue, 
These  are  some  foolish  whisperings  to  rue, 
Some  idle  hopes  and  tokens  to  recall, 

But  that  is  all— 
And  thorns  may  thicken  where  the  lilies  grew. 

And  yet  what  shafts  of  passion  melted  through 
Thine  eyes'  wild  witchery  and  wondrous  blue  ! 
Still,  if  cold  gloom  must  on  their  glory  fall, 
I  do  not  care. 

Nay,  sweet  one,  whisper  softly  thou  art  true, 
And  with  these  dimpled  hands  in  mine,  renew 

Love's  tender  thrall; 

Pluck  not  the  roses  from  life's  barren  wall, 
Nor  thus  with  ashes  strew — ah  well !  adieu ; 

I  do  not  care. 


'TIS  BUT  A  TEAR. 

)r  ¥  "MS  but  a  tear,  still  in  its  mute  embrace 
jL  A  weeping  sorrow  veils  her  weary  face  : 

It  is  a  hope,  a  prayer,  a  wild  regret, 
A  cenotaph  for  starry  dreamings  set, 

A  wandering  drop  from  passion's  broken  vase. 

It  is  a  mantle  shielding  frail  disgrace, 
An  alkahest  for  noble  and  for  base 

When  grief  or  disappointment  comes — and  yet 
'Tis  but  a  tear. 

It  is  a  gem  which  lights  the  dimpled  face 
When  rapture  rides  the  heart  his  frantic  race; 
A  scimeter  in  azure  eyes,  or  jet, 
Whose  argument  no  man  hath  ever  met; 
A  sword  whose  bright  edge  leaves  nor  scar  nor  trace — 
'Tis  but  a  tear. 


AH  ME! 

A[  me  !  ah  me  ! — whence  comes  the  low  refrain  ? 
I   heard    it    erstwhile — hark  !     Ah  me  ! — again. 
I  feel  the  tingling  blood  in  pity  sweep 
Along  my  veins ;    and  still  the  tidings  creep 
Upon  the  darkness  like  a  funeral  strain. 

There  is  the  muffled  death-roll  of  the  rain 
Upon  the  icy  rampart  of  the  pane, 

But  through  it  drifts  a  diapason  deep — 
Ah  me  !     Ah  me  ! 

Is  love  unfaithful  that  the  hours  complain  ? 

Doth  some  gray  phantom   haunt  the  night  amain  ? 
It  is  the  voice  of  griefs  that  may  not  sleep, 
The  dirge  of  days  who  for  their  errors  weep, 

For  love  is  vanity,  devotion  vain — 

Ah  me  !     Ah  me  ! 

(2)  17 


E 


LOOK   UP. 

OOK  up,  my  pet — look  to  the  open  sky, 
Turn  like  a  violet  thy  slumbrous  eye 
Unto  the  clustered  stars,  and  thou  shalt  see 
The  measure  of  the  love  I  bear  for  thee — 
Nay,  do  not  sigh; 

If  men  have  faithless  been  in  days  gone  by, 
Still  to  my  pleadings  grant  a  sweet  reply; 

Shed  all  the  gracious  light  of  love  on  me — 
Look  up,  my  pet. 

There  is  no  fate  my  soul  would  not  defy 
That  on  this  breast  thy  gentle  head  might  lie, 
For  in  my  life  thy  presence  still  must  be 

Its  mystery 
Eternally — and  wilt  thou  still  deny? 

Look  up,  my  pet. 


FOREVER   TRUE. 

FOREVER  true,  my  heart  must  cleave  and  cling 
Unto  its  cross  of  love  and  suffering : 
It  still  must  bloom,  its  weary  life  renew 
With  tears  for  dew, 
And  sighs  for  breezes  blown  from  sorrow's  wing. 

What  solace  may  the  fragrant  breath  of  spring 
Unto  a  dead  or  painted  lily  bring  ! 

Or  to  a  heart  that  dreams  its  lone  life  through, 
Forever  true  ! 

What  care  I  that  the  birds  of  summer  sing, 
And  blossom-bells  their  chimes  of  perfume  ring  ! 
I  only  know  that  eyes  so  fond  to  woo, 

So  deeply  blue, 
Are  shrouded,  and  my  heart  is — broken  thing — 

Forever  true. 

'9 


WHEN  I  WAS  YOUNG. 

WHEN  I  was  young-,  and   sweet  hopes  hung 
Like  blooms  the  dewy  hours  among, 
A  wandering  minstrel  softly  stole 
Into  a  corner  of  my  soul, 
And  nestling  there,  divinely  sung. 

Weird  strains  of  music  from  his  tongue 
Were  sweetly  breathed  or  wildly  flung, 
And  love  was  life's  enchanted  goal 

When  I  was  young. 

But  now  the  harp  to  which  I  clung 
Is  mute,  dismantled,  and  unstrung  ; 

The  minstrel's  songs  no  longer  roll 

From  out  my  bosom's  frozen  pole, 
And  all  the  hopes  are  dead  that  sprung 

When  I  was  young. 


J 


JUST  SWEET  SIXTEEN. 

UST  sweet  sixteen,  with  hair  of  sunshine  rolled 
In  many  a  flossy  flake  and  flame  of  gold, 
And   cheeks   through   which  enchanted  roses  press 
A  dim  suspicion  of  the  tenderness 

Their  bloom  enfold. 


She  loved,  alas  !    a  youth  as  poor  and  bold 
As  any  youth  who  loved  in  days  of  old  ; 
Ah  !  she  was  fondly  foolish,  I  confess, 

Just  sweet  sixteen. 

Then  came  a  suitor  with  a  wealth  untold, 
Who  craved  her  tender  charms  to  have  and  hold, 
And  he  was  sixty — rather  more  than  less — 
Still,  with  a  sigh,  the  maiden  murmured  "yes." 
Knowest  thou  the  maiden  soul  and  body  sold— 

Just  sweet  sixteen? 


IT  WAS  A  DREAM. 

IT  was  a  dream,  but  from  the  golden  day 
It  turns  full  many  a  sunny  shaft  away, 
And  solemnly  its  spectral  presence  swings 
On  dusky,  dim,  and  omnipresent  wings, 
Above  my  life,  like  some  grim  bird  of  prey. 

What  boots  it  that  I  petulantly  say, 
When  gloried  over  with  the  noon's  red  ray, 
And  human  fellowship  its  valor  brings, 
"  It  was  a  dream  !" 

I  saw  the  tawny  moon-tide  sweep  and  sway 
Athwart  a  maiden's  charming  cheek  of  May, 
And  when  I  sighed  unutterable  things 
And  wooed  her  in  the  glad  stars'  glitterings, 
The  odor  of  her  lips'  sweet  rose  was  Nay! — 
It  was  a  dream. 


SCATTER  THE  SHADOWS. 

/np* HOUGH  time  with  drastic  silent  surge 

Sweeps  graveward  all  the  human  race  ; 
The  darkest  wave  it  may  up-urge 
Is  lighted  by  some  smiling  face. 

Philosophy  or  faith  will  chase 
The  shadows  from  life's  outer  verge, 
Though  time  with  drastic  silent  surge 

Sweeps  graveward  all  the  human  race. 

Then  let  us  from  dim  doubt  emerge 

Into  the  light  of  love's  sweet  grace, 

And  let  the  dolor  of  the  dirge 

Unto  a  joyous  song  give  place, 

Though  time  with  drastic  silent  surge 

Sweeps  graveward  all  the  human  race. 


MIGNONETTE. 

HAZEL-EYED  maiden,  Mignonette, 
Harken  the  tale  I  would  o'er-tell, 
The  lesson  my  heart  hath  learned  so  well 
From  love's  alluring  alphabet. 

Never  can  I  the  smile  forget 

Which  over  my  life  in  splendor  fell — 
Hazel-eyed  maiden,  Mignonette, 

Harken  the  tale  I  would  o'er-tell. 

Songs  of  the  sea  must  ever  fret 

The  pearly  throat  of  the  haunted  shell, 
But  love's  are  the  only  sweets  that  swell 

From  the  lips  of  my  perfumed  "  dainty  pet," 

Hazel-eyed  maiden,  Mignonette. 


WHICH    SHALL   IT   BE? 

WHICH  shall  it  be,"  the  maiden  sighed, 
"The  heart  of  love,  or  the  hand  of  gold  ? 
The  gaunt  wolf  roams  in  the  wintry  wold, 
And  the  sea  of  years  moans  wild  and  wide  !" 

Ah  !  poverty  plays  on  the  harp  of  pride, 

And  the  world  is  dark  and  the  world  is  cold— 

"  Which  shall  it  be,"  the  maiden  sighed, 

"The  heart  of  love,  or  the  hand  of  gold?" 

The  wave  of  want  is  a  bitter  tide, 

Whose  saddest  wrecks  are  still  untold, 
For  grief  wraps  silence,  fold  on  fold, 

O'er  the  story  death  shall  wholly  hide — 

"Which  shall  it  be,"  the  maiden  sighed, 

"The  heart  of  love,  or  the  hand  of  gold?" 


NOTHING. 

"  A  /I    T HAT   are  your  thoughts,  my  pretty  maid?" 

V  V        <l  O  nothing,"  she  replied, 
The  while  her  cheeks  in  red  arrayed 

The  soft  response  denied; 

For  there  are  tricks  in  every  trade, 

But  love  hath  naught  to  hide ; 
"What  are  your  thoughts,  my  pretty  maid?" 

"O  nothing,"  she  replied. 

A  footstep  wandered  down  the  glade, 

A  footstep  as  of  pride, 
And  all  her  soul  with  sweets  was  swayed 

When  he  stood  at  her  side: 
"  What  are  your  thoughts,  my  pretty  maid  ? '' 

"O  nothing,"  she  replied. 
26 


WHICH  WERE  THE  BETTER? 

THE  heart  may  break,  the  heart  may  bend. 
Bend  or  break  with  a  tear  or  sigh — 
Which  were  the  better  in  the  end  ? 

Droop  with  a  love  in  silence  penned, 
Sink  with  the  sorrow  of  good-by : 
The  heart  may  break,  the  heart  may  bend. 

Wearily  over  the  world  to  wend, 

Or  under  a  marble  slab  to  lie — 
Which  were  the  better  in  the  end  ? 

Cold  the  clasp  of  a  treasured  friend, 

And  wintry  shadows  haunt  her  eye  ; 
The  heart  may  break,  the  heart  may  bend. 

27 


FIXED  SHADOWS. 

Doubts  and  fears  my  bosom  rend ; 
To  sue  sweet  favor  or  to  fly — 
Which  were  the  better  in  the  end? 

I  plead  unto  the  stars,  who  send 
But  mocking  echo  in  reply : 
"The  heart  may  break,  the  heart  may  bend- 
Which  were  the  better  in  the  end?" 


SWEET,    SAD    LOVE. 

"  r  |  ^HE  sweet  sad  love  that  mortals  know" 

So  sighs  the  pine,  so  sobs  the  fir— 
"Is  but  a  jewel  set  in  woe; 

"  It  is  the  soul  of  winds  that  blow 

Around  the  crumbling  sepulcher, 
The  sweet,  sad  love  that  mortals  know; 

"And  e'en  the  fond  heart's  overflow, 

And  tearful  wish  for  days  that  were, 
Is  but  a  jewel  set  in  woe. 

"  A  maiden  sings  our  boughs  below 

And  wooes,  her  dreamy  eyes  aver, 
The  sad,  sweet  love  that  mortals  know  ; 

29 


FIXED  SHADOWS. 

4t  She  cannot  deem  in  hope's  rich  glow 

That  passion,  newly  born  to  her, 
Is  but  a  jewel  set  in  woe. 

"And  thus,  forever,  sad  and  slow 

Our  muffled  strings  to  sorrow  stir  : 
The  sad,  sweet  love  that  mortals  know 
Is  but  a  jewel  set  in  woe." 


THE  LAMENT  OF  THE  REJECTED. 

IF  she  must  be  another's  blushing  bride, 
Perhaps  'tis  best : 
The  world  which  once  was  gracious  still  is  wide. 

Yet  gloomily  a  grief  will  ever  hide 

Within  my  breast, 
If  she  must  be  another's  blushing  bride  ; 

While  hope,  foregoing  all  for  which  she  sighed, 

Shall  banish  rest ; 
The  world  which  once  was  gracious  still  is  wide. 

And  but  a  wreck  my  soul  will  rock,  and  ride 

On  sorrow's  crest, 
If  she  must  be  another's  blushing  bride. 


FIXED  SHADOWS. 

Ah  me  !  that  love  should  find  at  eventide 

No  waiting  nest  ! 
The  world  which  once  was  gracious  still  is  wide. 

Then  let  regret  put  on  the  plume  of  pride 

And  make  new  quest, 
If  she  must  be  another's  blushing  bride  ! 
The  world  which  once  was  gracious  still  is  wide. 


WOOING  IS  BAD. 

WHICH  is  the  best  to  woo, 
Tell  me,  I  pray, 
Brown  eyes,  or  black,  or  blue — 
Which  is  the  best  to  woo? 
Which  will  dead  love  renewr, 

Hazel  or  gray  ? 
Which  is  the  best  to  woo  ? 

Tell  me,  I  pray. 

Wooing  is  bad  at  best, 

Sweet  though  it  be  ; 
Nay,  fairest,  smooth  thy  crest, 
Wooing  is  bad  at  best  ; 
Love's  is  a  brittle  nest 

In  a  glass  tree  ; 
Wooing  is  bad  at  best, 

Sweet  though  it  be. 

(3)  33 


ONLY    A    ROSEBUD. 

ONLY  a  rosebud  red, 
As  a  heart  token, 
Scentless  now,  sere  and  dead, 
Only  a  rosebud  red, 
Like  to  the  hope  it  sped, 

Blighted  and  broken  ; 
Only  a  rosebud  red, 

As  a  heart  token.        . 


SHADOWS. 

THE  sun  sinks,  and  shadows  mute  and  gray 
Like  ghosts  upstart! 

And  mutinous  memory  holds  despotic  sway 
When  the  sun  sinks,  and  shadows  mute  and  gray 
Steal  from  the  trailing  drapery  of  day 

Into   my  heart. 

Ah  !   the  sun  sinks,  and  shadows  mute  and  gray 

Like  ghosts  upstart. 


!5 


BLUE  EYES. 

BLUE  eyes,  whose  curtains  fall 
Over  their  glory  ! 
What  heart  cannot  recall 
Blue  eyes  whose  curtains  fall 

On  love's  sweet  story  ! 
Shielding,  yet  showing  all, 
Blue  eyes,  whose  curtains  fall 

Over  their  glory. 


•:" 


IN    THE    MAY   WEATHER. 

UNDER  dim  twilight  skies 
In  the  May  weather, 
Soft  pleas  and  sweet   replies, 
Under  dim  twilight  skies, 
Waken  to  lips  and  eyes 

Wedded  together, 
Under  dim  twilight  skies 

In  the  May  weather. 


YOUTH'S  DREAM. 

HEAVENLY  dream!"    a  fair  youth  sighed, 
As  'mongst  the  buds  and  blooms  that  twine 
Their  beauties  in  love's  red  sunshine 
A  vision  nestled,  gracious-eyed, 
Out-wafting  witchcraft  far  and  wide 

From  look  and  parted  lips  divine — 
"  O  dream,  no  future  shall  divide," 

Said  he,  "  thy  loving  heart  and  mine  ! " 

But  when  the  youth  about  his  prize, 

Enraptured,  eager  arms  had  thrown, 

The  wild  light  faded  from  his  eyes, 

The  rapture  from  his  heart  was  flown  ; 

For  reft  of  passion's  sweet  disguise, 

The  burden  that  he  bore  was  stone. 


LEE. 

OUT  from  the  battle's  wreck  of  pride   and  plume, 
And  all  the  midnight  of  mad   overthrow, 
The  chieftain  strode,  as  heroes  must  who  grow 
The  grander  for  an  atmosphere  of  gloom  : 
Came  with  a  soul  unrifled  of  the  bloom 

Which  faith  and  courage  marry  to  bestow  ; 
Came  back  to  love  which  \\as  a  crown  to  woe, 
A  garland  for  his  sorrow  and  his  tomb. 

And  when  his  rigid  icy  hands  were  crossed 

Above  the  big  brave  heart  forever  hushed, 

So  warm  a  heart  became  so  cold  a  stone  ! 
The  people  pondered  but  on  what  he  lost 

When  from  his  brow  the  drooping  bay  was  brushed, 
And  in  his  greater  grief  forgot  their  own. 


BALLADE  OF  DECEITFUL  WOMAN, 

IT  happened  in  the  balmy  spring, 
When  perfumes  fresh  and  rare 
Dripped  from  the  brooding  twilight's  wing 
Upon  the  drowsy  air; 
And  she,  Kathleen,  was  young  and  fair 
As  dreams  of  fancy's  weaving, 

And  I  thought  not,  in  passion's  glare, 
That  woman  is  deceiving. 

My  little  one,  I  said,  I  bring 

Sweet  hope  to  speed  my  prayer, 

The  while  her  cheeks  were  blossoming 
With  love-buds  waving  there  : 
O  she  was  fond  and  debonair 

Beyond  cold  art's  achieving, 

And  in  my  heart  there  was  no  care 

That  woman  is  deceiving. 


FIXED  SHADOWS. 

Sweetest,  I  said,  this  golden  ring 

On  thy  white  finger  wear ; 
See  how  my  lightest  kisses  cling 

Like  rose-leaves  to  thy  hair  ! 

Come  to  my  soul,  I  said,  and  share 
Life's  gladness  and  its  grieving, 

Unthoughful  in  love's  charming  snare 
That  woman  is  deceiving. 

ENVOY. 
Ah,  prince  !    we  are  a  happy  pair, 

Too  happy  for  believing; 
And  in  my  rapture  I  forswear 

That  woman  is  deceiving-. 


BALLADE   OF   COUNTRY    PLACES. 

HEARKEN  the  sad  recital  of  my  woes 
That  will  not  brook  concealment  in  my  breast, 
For  even  now  the  dermis  of  my  nose 

Is  peeling  off  and  powdering  my  vest ; 
Perhaps  when  my  misfortunes  are  confessed 
This  wild  disgust  may  lose  its  sharpest  traces  ; 
But  heed  my  warning — be  no  summer  guest 
At  country  places. 

Said  I,  last  August,  How  the  hot  sun  glows  ! 

The  very  air  is  with  the  glare  oppressed. 
O  for  the  fields,  I  said,  where  piping  crows 

Build  in  the  daffodils  their  stately  nest. 

Wherefore  I  left  the  city,  traveling  west, 
And  plunged  into  the  greenwood's  airs  and  graces, 

My  bosom  full  of  dreams  of  grateful  rest 
In  country  places. 


FIXED   SHADOWS. 

Alas  !    alas  !    no  milk  nor  honey  flows, 

Nor  fresh  eggs  tarry  where  I  made  my  quest  ; 
The  bony  farmer  said,   "  Sich  projuce  goes 

For  them  rich  city  fellers  to  digest." 

Meanwhile,  the  sun  made  up  his  mind  to  test 
The  staying  quality  of  human  faces, 

And  my  poor  nose  put  on  a  crimson  crest, 
In  country  places. 

ENVOY. 

Ah,  prince  !   a  thousand  insects,  bad  at  best, 

Along  my  back  ran  mad  and  "frantic  races ; 
And  things  that  move  live  only  to  molest 

In  country  places. 


43 


BALLADE   OF   THE   COLD   SEA. 

THE  breeze  was  balmy  and  the  sea  was  blue, 
And  morning  into  blossoms  kissed  the  spray, 
When  gallantly  a  blithe  and  merry  crew 
Into  the  frozen  ocean  sailed  away. 
Ah  !   little  recked  they  of  the  piercing  day 
When  phantom  icy  fingers  would   bestow 

The  last  sad  rite  and  wrap  the  rigid  clay 
In  cerement  and  sepulcher  of  snow. 

Familiar  home-scenes  faded  out  of  view, 

And  winter  smote  the  faded  cheeks  of  May, 
But  onward  still  the  bark,  to  duty  true, 

Into  the  frozen  ocean  sailed  away. 

The  wild  wind  shrieked,  the  sky  hung  leaden  gray, 
The  clouds  shook  out  their  fatal  dust  below, 

And  in  the  shrouds  a  hoarse  fate   seemed  to  say, 
"In  cerement  and  sepulcher  of  snow." 


H 


FIXED   SHADOWS. 

His  black,  bleak  mantle  cruel  midnight  threw 

Athwart  the  sinking  sun's  last  rosy  ray, 
And  clasped  in  chill  embrace  the  brave  men  who 

Into  the  frozen  ocean  sailed  away. 

No  day-beam  on  the  gloom  made  bold  to  stray, 
And  Hope  herself  forsook  the  haunt  of  woe  : 

Ah  me!    "God  pity  them/'  we  can  but  pray, 
"  In  cerement  and  sepulcher  of  snow." 

ENVOY. 

A  gallant  crew,  with  banners  streaming  gay, 
Into  the  frozen  ocean  sailed  away  ; 
But  now  they  rest — ah  well ! — the  angels  know, 
In  cerement  and  sepulcher  of  snow. 


BALLADE  OF  THE  GOLDEN  WEST. 


Y,  my  darling,"  the  young  man  cries; 
"Good-by  till  I  build  thee  the  dearest  nest 
In  the  land  of  soft  Hesperian  skies, 

In  the  golden  solitudes  of  the  west." 
The  maid  to  her  true-love's  heart  is  pressed, 
And  into  her  eye  the  quick  tear  leaps  ; 

But  when  he  is  gone  o'er  the  hill's  dim  crest 
She  foldeth  her  empty  arms,  and  weeps. 

Full  many  a  blithesome  token  hies 

To  gladden  the  maiden's  eager  breast, 
And  whisper  of  love's  unbroken  ties 

In  the  golden  solitudes  of  the  west. 

But  when  on  her  warm  and  rosy  rest 
The  cold  pale  oaf  of  absence  sweeps, 

And  doubt  is  her  heart's  unbidden  guest, 
She  foldeth  her  empty  arms,  and  weeps. 
46 


FIXED   SHADOWS. 

The  years  drift  by  like  lingering  sighs, 

Like  deep-drawn  sighs  from  an  age's  chest, 
For  the  maiden's  heart,  like  a  crushed  rose,  lies 

In  the  golden  solitudes  of  the  west ; 

And  hope  flies  forth  on  a  fruitless  quest, 
For  mystery  over  the  dead  hush  sleeps, 

And  the  maiden  forgets  "  God  knoweth  best," 
She  foldeth  her   empty  arms,  and  weeps. 

ENVOY. 

The  maiden  may  find  no  alkahest 
In  the  golden  solitudes  of  the  west, 
But  over  a  mound,  where  ivy  creeps, 
She  foldeth  her  empty  arms,  and  weeps. 


SHIFTING   SHADOWS. 


(4)  49 


THAUMATURGUS. 
I. 

WHAT  is  the  reason  of  the  snow 
Fluttering  flower-like  down  below, 
Out  of  a  mystic  realm  opaque 
Where  no  star-beam  brightens  a  break  ? 
What  is  the  reason  of  its  fall 
White  and  clean  from  an  ashen  pall? 
Why  not  quiver,  and  whirl,  and  float, 
Out  of  a  cloud  cup's  crystal  throat  ? 
Why  not  fairily  slide  and  slip 
Over  the  winter's  glittering  lip, 
Rather  than  meek,  and  soft,  and  dumb, 
Out  of  the  womb  of  gloom  to  come  ? 

II. 

Why  should  the  vanquished  ice-god  fling 
Magical  wafts  from  his  bitter  wing, 


S  HI F  TIN  G  SHA  D  O  M  'S . 

Quickening  earth  to  fragrant  deeds 
And  wooing  the  wastes  to  bourgeoning 

Where  the  luminous  line  of  snow  recedes  ? 
Why  should  he  challenge  the  sun  to  bring 

A  glory  wherever  his  footstep  leads  ? 
Yet  ever  the  daintiest  buds  emerge 
From  the  folds  of  the  fading  winter's  surge, 
And  birds  their  tenderest  anthems  sing 
In  the  hush  that  follows  the  dead  year's  dirge, 

And  heralds  the  dimpled  spring. 

III. 

What  is  the  impulse  glad  and  wise, 
Who  is  the  angel  in  disguise, 

Scattering  wreaths  of  sweetest  flowers 

Over  the  ashes  of  the  hours  ? 
What  is  the  force  that  underlies 
All  our  wonderful  love  implies? 
Love,  that  like  a  violet  grows 
Out  of  the  couchings  of  the  snows, 
Love  that  bends  like  the  lily,  prayer, 
Over  the  dim  rim  of  despair ; 
Who  is  the  spirit  of  the  spell  ? 
Harken,  and  let  thine  own  heart  tell. 


«a 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

IV. 

Love  is  the  secret,  love  the  power, 

Changing  the  snow-flake  to  the  flower, 

Purging  the  mad  heart's  bitter  well 

Into  a  heavenly  hydromel  ; 

Love  on  the  earth,  or  love  above, 

Still  wherever,  'tis  only  love. 

Love  it  is  that  strews  the  snow 

Out  of  a  leaden  waste  of  sky, 
Only  to  teach  that  brooding  woe, 

Breaks  into  blossoms  by  and  by, 
Only  that  we  may  better  know 

The  rest  which  waiteth  on  a  sigh. 


53 


UNFINISHED. 
I. 

FROM  out  the  years  obscure,  remote, 
Unfinished  song  on  shadowy  wings 
Across  my  life  forever  float, 

And  brush  from  love's  abandoned  strings 
Their  saddest  note. 

II. 

I  catch  the  sweet  familiar  strain 

Which  first  through  life's  fair  temple  swept, 
But  silence  grasps  it  back  again, 

And  nothing  fills  my  soul,  except 
A  weary  pain. 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 


III. 

The  night  winds,  as  they  murmur  by, 
Bring  e'er  some  isolated  link, 

Some  fragment  from  the  wrecks  that  lie 
Within  the  past,  then  sadly  sink 
Into  a  sisrh. 


IV. 

How  oft  my  fond  heart  makes  pursuit, 

When,  through  the  dark  boughs  of  the  firs, 

A  faint  voice  like  a  spirit  flute 

The  starry  hush  of  midnight  stirs, 

Then  all  is  mute. 


V. 

How  often,  when  the  moonbeams  play 
With  shadows  in  the  wilderness, 

I  fancy  in  some  graceful  ray, 

The  flutter  of  a  phantom  dress, 

Long  passed  away  ! 


SHIFl^ING  SHADOWS. 

VI. 

Thus  through  the  dim  rifts  of  the  years, 
But  broken  chords  of  memory  rise, 

And  fancy,  deeming  that  she  hears 
The  olden  songs,  uplift  her  eyes 

Through  heavy  tears, 


VII. 

And  life  must,  like  a  statue,  stand 

Half  wrought  in  fate's  grim  studio, 

An  outline  of  a  poem  planned 

By  hope  which  perished  'neath  a  blow 
Of  sorrow's  hand. 


V 


WAITING. 
I. 

WHERE  booms  the  blue  Atlantic  on  its  beaches 
In  bright,  revolving  reaches, 
And,  like  a  sighing  nun, 
The  oak  in  mossy  veiling,  dusk  and  dun, 
Her  musical  sweet  creed  forever  teaches 

Beside  the  singing  sea, 
I  sought  for  hope  and  love,  and  found  despair  and  thee  • 

II. 

The  cedars  hung  their  deep-hued  banners  o'er  us, 

The  billows  broke  before  us, 

And  tenderly  at  rest 

Thy  golden  head  lay  pillowed  on  my  breast, 
Until  so  bitter  fate  asunder  tore  us, 

And  bade  the  years  sweep  by 
On  wings  that  waft  my  soul  a  song  that  is  a  sigh. 

57 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

III. 

I  gave  thee  back  no  sweet  and  tender  token, 

Love's  links  are  all  unbroken, 

Its  plighted  troth  is  true  ; 
And,  though  disparted,  fondly  I  renew 
The  sacred  compact  in  the  star-shine  spoken, 

And  bide  the  golden  hour 
When  in  my  life  shall  bloom  love's  first  and  fairest  flower. 


- 


TO  IDA. 
i. 

GENTLE  maiden,  maiden  pure, 
Maiden  dove-eyed  and  demure. 
From  the  soul's  most  golden  censer 

Graven  to  thy  portraiture, 
Waft  I  tenderness  intenser 

Than  I  mutely  may  endure. 

II. 

When  the  night's  soft  hands  unbar 

Dreamy  hours,  crepuscular; 
When  the  wing  of  twilight  hovers 

In  the  silence  faint  and  far, 
Love  but  only  thee  discovers, 

Smiling  on  me  as  a  star. 

59 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

III. 

When  the  warm  winds  in  the  pine 

Sing  a  lullaby  divine, 
Or  in  low  sonatas  tremble 

Where  the  wreathing  roses  twine, 
Still  their  sweetest  tones  resemble 

But  the  melody  of  thine. 

IV. 

In  the  lily,  in  the  dew, 

In  the  violet's  dear  hue, 
I  can  read  but  love's  fond  tidings 

Breathing  all  their  beauty  through, 
And  the  midnight's  hushed  confidings 

E'er  thy  wooing  voice  renew. 

V. 

In  thy  bright  and  gracious  eyes 

Elfin  love  in  ambush  lies, 
And  his  arrow,  swift  and  certain, 

With  a  sudden  rapture  flies 
Through  the  fringes  of  the  curtain 

Drooping  o'er  the  fond  disguise; 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

VI. 

And  the  ruthless,  roving  lance 

From  the  quiver  of  thy  glance, 
With  a  pang  a  sigh  discloses, 

Wounds  the  bosom  it  enchants, 
And  my  heart,  in  chains  of  roses 

At  thy  feet,  a  captive,  pants. 


THE  COTTONWOOD  SCOURGE. 


i. 

BY  the  banks  of  the  turgid  Klamath, 
In  the  shadow  of  snowy  peaks, 
A  pestilence  swings  on  implacable  wings, 
And  horribly  seeks,  through  the  wearisome  weeks, 
Fresh  food  for  its  hungerings. 


II. 

In  the  pine,  in  the  fir,  in  the  cedar, 

In  the  multiple  tongues  of  the  night, 
There  is  ever  a  moan  near  akin  to  a  groan, 
And  silence  itself  has  a  sorrow  its  own 

For  the  souls  that  have  sailed  out  of  sight. 
62 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 


III. 

The  plash  of  the  rain  on  the  window, 

The  feathery  flight  of  the  snow, 

The  moonbeams  that  drift  through  the  luminous  rift 
Of  the  cloud-rack — all  tenderly,  tearfully  lift 

Their  voices  in  threnodes  of  woe. 


IV. 

I  stand  in  the  city  of  silence, 

In  the  acre  of  broken  hearts, 
And  deem  that  I  hear  in  the  fall  of  a  tear 
The  music  that  thrills  on  an  angel's  ear 
When  the  golden  life  cord  parts. 


V. 

And  the  dusky  plumes  of  the  pine-trees 

With  a  sad,  soft  anthem  sigh — 
A  melody  sung  by  no  human  tongue, 
From  the  harp  of  death  by  a  cold  hand  flung 
To  those  who  yet  must  die. 

63 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

VI. 

And  the  past  and  present  and  future 

Are  blent  in  a  single  tone — 
An  isolate  note  from  a  ghostly  throat, 
That  over  a  new  mound  seems  to  float, 
And  whiten  into  a  stone. 


VII. 

By  the  banks  of  the  turgid  Klamath, 

Where  the  snow-browed  peaks  upshoot, 

A  sad-eyed  care  upon  the  air, 

Like  the  soul  of  a  deep,  unspoken  prayer, 
Broods  eloquent  and  mute. 


•4 


AN    EMPTY    NECROPOLIS. 

I. 

G3.IKF  etches  on  the  marble-lidded  tombs, 
With  tears  for  tools,  an  epitaph  of  woe  ; 
He  works  in  silence  where  the  willow-plumes 
Rain  sighs  and  shadows  on  the  hush  below, 
While  through  the  trailing  surge  of  cypress  glooms 
The  stars,  like  great  death-diamonds,  sadly  glow, 
And  hope  and  patient  love — poor  human  things — 
Above  the  icy  ashes  fold  their  wings. 

II. 

Like  muffled  chords  from  some  grand  organ  flying 
A  fugue  of  souls  through  time's  cathedral  sweeps, 

Among  the  arches  of  the  dim  years  dying— 
The  arches  where  immortal  echo  weeps — 

(5)  65 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

And  constantly  the  mute  are  multiplying 

Where  silence  o'er  her  treasure  vigil  keeps, 
And  day  by  day  the  solemn  mourners  tread 
The  grassless  path  down-beaten  for  the  dead. 

III. 

But  in  the  heart  there  is  a  vacant  acre 

Which  gentle  charity  hath  set  aside, 
Wherein  she  broods,  an  idle  undertaker, 

And  prays  the  death  of  doubt,  and  hate,  and  pride  ;- 
Still  on  the  beach  the  blue  rush  of  the  breaker 

Strews  only  lovely  ruin,  wild  and  wide, 
While  malice,  envy,  error,   cunning,  crime, 
Sport  with  the  storms,  and  scoff  the  toils  of  time. 

IV. 

Within  her  park  the  lovely  sexton  pineth 
Beneath  the  scowl  of  Eidolon  despair, 

For  o'er  her  paths  the  rank  weed  proudly  twineth 
And  strews  fierce  blossoms  on  her  whitened   hair ; 

She  looks  above,  but  scarce  a  wan  star  shineth 
Between  the  sullen  cloud-racks  gathered  there, 

And  by  her  gates  the  sable  death-carts  wind 

With  fair  dead  children  of  the  human  mind. 

66 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

V. 

What  speeds  detraction  on  its  mad  excursion  ? 

What  weights  the  wing  of  commendation  down  ? 
Why  falls  like  lead  the  feather  of  aspersion  ? 

Why  floats  like  foam  approval's  golden  crown  ? 
What  beam  more  fleet  than  whispers  of  aversion  ! 

What  snail  so  dilatory  as  renown  ! 
For  living  hearts  still  bear  the  steel's  cold  thrust, 
While  garlands  deck  the  dumb,  unconscious  dust. 

VI. 

What  boot  life's  homilies  and  pure  epistles 
That  plead  unto  the  clod-encrusted  soul  ! 

The  henbane  of  the  heart,   its  thorns  and  thistles, 
Still  gather  dew  from  passion's  brimming  bowl, 

And  hold  high  carnival  though  winter  whistles 
From  out  adversity's  inclement  pole, 

But  charity  sobs  at  the  ingleside 

Above  her  graves,  o'ergrown,  unoccupied. 


TO    MRS.    HATTIE   STEWART. 

I. 

I    WOULD  that  as  an  eagle  throws 
His  image  from  the  sky, 
Or  as  the  petal  of  a  rose 
Is  wafted  from  its  sweet  repose 

By  some  Eolian  sigh, 
The  wraith  of  destiny  may  fling 
But  truant  shadows  from  his  wing 
To  pass,  unpausing,  by. 

II. 

I  would  that  Love  may  richly  dew 
Thy  life  with  pleasure's  wine, 

And  spare  thy  cup  the  bitter  rue 

With  which  he  maddened  mine; 

May  time  be  golden,  hearts  be  true; 

May  starry  footsteps  twinkle  through 

68 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

The  garden  of  thy  years, 
And  scatter  blooms,  and  fond  perfumes, 
And  music  as  of  Pity's  plumes, 

Beguiling  Sorrow's  tears. 

III. 
I  would  that  as  the  seasons  sink 

Into  the  mute  unknown, 
Some  gentle  memory  may  link 

My  name  to  Friendship's  throne  ; 
I   would  that  I  might  dream,  or  think, 

When  brooding  and  alone, 
That  one  bright  bubble  on  the  brink 

Of  thought  were  all  my  own. 

IV. 

I  wish  the  spirits  of  the  air, 

And  earth,  and  tire,  and  sea, 
To  crown  thy  soul's  most  silent  prayer, 
And  from  thy  footsteps  sweep  despair, 

Where'er  thy  path  may  be. 
I  would  that  peace,  and  love,  and  rest, 
May  make  thy  heart  their  common  nest, 
And  all  things  beautiful  and  best, 
I  wish  for  thine  and  thee. 
69 


THE    ICONOCLAST. 
I. 

A  SWEEP  of  midnight  hair — an  eye  whose  glen- 
Is  flashed  from  out  the  furnace  of  the  soul- 
A  tongue  attuned  to  love's  sweet  oratory — 

Red  lips  writ  o'er  with  kisses  as  a  scroll; 
And  so  you  have  the  hero  of  my  story : 

No  sallow  saint ;  no  priest  in  cowl  and  stole ; 
A  common  mortal  twenty-six  and  past, 
Unmarried,  wealthy,  an  iconoclast. 

II. 

As  breathes  a  sighing  night-wind  through  the  willow, 
As  to  the  pine  a  plaintive  murmur  clings, 

As  on  the  beach  the  blue,  incessant  billow 
Its  minor  minstrelsy  forever  flings, 

A  tender  longing  o'er  the  young  man's  pillow 
Outspread  the  sleepless  shadow  of  its  wings, 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

And  launched  him  forth  on  Passion's  painted  ships 
To  gather  fruit  that  withered  on  his  lips. 


III. 

A  tourist  first,  unto  the  thousand-citied 

And  rosy  Orient  his  fancy  led  ; 
Ascended  mountains  where  the  frost-loom  knitted 

A  shroud  about  their  summits  cold  and  dead ; 
Then  to  the  haunt  of  fig  and  palm  tree  flitted, 

Where  history  and  legend  weirdly  wed, 
And  wooed  Cleopatra  where  star-beams  smile 
Along  the  myth-wreathed  waters  of  the  Nile. 


IV. 

To  Missolonghi,  where  were  snapped  asunder 

The  golden  strings  of  Byron's  fierce,  sweet  lyre; 

To  Africa,   whose  mute  wastes  quiver  under 
The  tawny  lash  of  Fate's  remorseless  fire  ; 

And  much  saw  he  whereat  to  gaze  and  wonder, 
But  in  his  soul  there  lurked  a  wild  desire, 

A  nameless  longing,  deepest  when  he  sighed, 

That  travel  eased  not,  nothing  satisfied. 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

V. 
Along  the  dimpled  disk  of  seas  he  drifted 

Before  the  waft  of  wanton  kissing  gales, 
While  flossy  shreds  and  flakes  of  sunlight  sifted 

From  out  the  milky  mystery  of  sails, 
And  phantom  knights  their  spectral  lances  lifted 

In  pale  defiance  over  ghostly  grails. 
But  still  the  youth,  upon  the  wave's  blue  page, 
No  secret  found  his  longing  to  assuage. 

VI. 

Then  northward,  where  the  fair  Aurora's  tresses, 

O'er-flecked  with  stars,  bestrew  the  throbbing  sky; 

Where  Hecla  looms  o'er  icy  wildernesses 

And  proudly  flaunts  his  crimson  plume  on  high; 

Where  winter's  thrall  the  fettered  sea  oppresses, 
And  human  bones  the  cold  stars  underlie; 

O'er  blinking  floes  that  cling  about  the  pole 

He  chased  the  fleeting  fancies  of  the  soul. 

VII. 

Then  sought  he  peace  in  toil,  it  little  mattered 
The  nature  or  the  name  of  the  pursuit ; 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

His  first  fair  dream  was  as  a  fragrance  scattered — 
The  tree  of  travel  bore  but  ashen  fruit ; 

And  so  he  desperately  smote  and  shattered 

The  idle  image,  smote  it  branch  and  root, 

And  sought  in  commerce  and  in  cent  per  cent 

The  magical  elixir  of  content. 


VIII. 

Swift  argosies  upon  his  pleasure  waited 

With  white  wings  bent  above  the  purple  tide, 

Before  whose  flight  the  fierce  typhoon  abated, 
And  Zephyr  but  a  perfumed  pinion  plied. 

Yet  he  was  weary,  disappointed,  sated, 

And  o''er  the  pyramids  of  gold  he  sighed, 

For  in  the  honey  of  his  proud  success 

Still  lurked  the  haunting,  hollow  bitterness. 


IX. 

And  so  he  struck  the  idol  into  ashes, 

And  sought  nepenthe  at  another  shrine ; 

Plunged  headlong  in  the  opal  flood  that  flashes 
A  languid  lethe  from  its  depths  divine, 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

And  kissed  the  siren  from  whose  dreamy  lashes 

Streams  out  the  glory  and  the  gloom  of  wine  : 
Then  to  the  phantom  clung  he  close  and  fast, 
Conceiving  he  had  found  the  balm  at  last. 

X. 

But  as  the  months  the  fevered  weeks  succeeded, 
And  nights  of  singing  ushered  days  of  sighs; 

When  time  went  limping  by,  or  sped  unheeded, 
And  sleep  was  torture  in  a  mad  disguise ; 

When  life's  fair  bloom,  with  white  lips,  mutely  pleaded 
For  one  unsullied  dew-drop  from  the  skies — 

The  wretched  youth,  with  giant  heave  and  thrust, 

Overthrew  the  carnal  idol  in  the  dust. 

XI. 

About  ihe  shattered  cup  he  lingered  sadly, 

As  o'er  a  dream  too  fair  so  soon  to  fade, 

And  in  a  fond  regret  forgot  how  madly 

His  sweetest  hope  was  flattered  and  betrayed: 

Then  reason  swept  the  glowing  fragments,  gladly, 
Into  a  grave  which  Iron  Will  had  made; 

While  o'er  the  wreck  she  wrapped,  and  tucked,  and  tied 

The  pall-like  mantles  of  remorse  and  pride. 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

XII. 

We  leave  our  sins  with  footstep   undecided, 

With  backward  stolen  glance  and  frequent  sigh ; 

But  when  from  virtue  we  are  once  divided, 
To  folly's  arms  we  run,  we  rush,  we  fly  ! 

For  man's  strange  destiny  was  ever  guided 
By  hidden  forces,  wrenching  it  awry, 

And  all  of  us  some  sweet  misdeeds  pursue, 

Forsaking  old  ones  but  to  chase  the  new. 

XIII. 

From  wine  he  wandered  to  the  gaming-table, 

Where  men  with  pallid  cheeks  and  eyes  of  glass 

Sat  statue-like  amidst  the  heated  Babel, 
To  lose  or  win,  to  scatter  or  amass, 

And  whether  fortunate  or  not,  unable 

The  tempting  tonic  of  the  cup  to  pass  ; 

For  men  who  hazard  ever  fondly  think 

To  ride  like  bubbles  on  the  beaker's  brink. 

XIV. 
His  horses  all  competitors  outspeeded, 

His  yacht  was  foremost  of  a  gallant  fleet; 
Success  success  in  golden  waves  succeeded, 

And  fortune's  favors  fluttered  to  his  feet : 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

But  in  these  triumphs  there  was  something  needed 

To  qualify  the  universal  sweet — 
A  lacking  flavor  which  his  heart  well  knew 
Its  loneliness  and  longing  would  subdue. 

XV. 

And  then  the  painted  image,  wrought  so  newly, 
Was  petulantly  from  its  altar  spurned; 

For  o'er  some  dim  and  undiscovered  thule, 
His  restless  spirit  passionately  yearned— 

Some  tryst  to  which,  still  tenderly  and  truly, 
His  heart  in  hungry  expectation  turned; 

Some  mystic  spot  within  whose  peaceful  gloom, 

The  rose  of  rest  distills  her  rare  perfume. 

XVI. 

Thus  many  fragile  idols  were  erected, 

.Insanely  worshiped,  fiercely  overthrown; 

But,  hoping  still,  the  dauntless  youth  selected 
Another  image  wrought  of  sober  stone, 

Yet  in  whose  searching  eye  his  soul  detected 
A  kindred  light  to  that  within  his  own — 

A  falcon  glance,   with  never-folded  wings, 

Which  soared  o'er  great  and  swooped  to  little  things. 

76 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

XVII. 

For  vScience  now  engaged  his  rapt  attention, 

And  on  its  wondrous  pinion  Thought  took  flight, 

And  hung  with  studious  and  hushed  suspension 
Among  the  dimmest  distances  of  night, 

Or  swept  with  swift  and   subtile  apprehension 
The  veil  of  tangled  theories  from  sight, 

Nor  knew  he  pause,  nor  daliance,  nor  rest, 

Until  he  lay  on  nature's  vanquished  breast. 

XVIII. 

With  all  the  gracious  sisterhood  of  flowers. — 

The  bleeding-heart,  the  pink,  the  eglantine- 
He  held  sweet  converse,  couching  in  the  bowers, 
And  dreaming  dreams  as  fleeting  as  divine- 
Strange  dreams  that  woke  him  in  the  starry  hours, 
And  thrilled  along  his  veins  like  purple  wine; 
Prophetic  dreams  that  from  the  future  stole 
The  shadows  of  the  wish   within  his  soul. 

XIX. 

To  him  the  tulip  hung  atilt  with  meaning, 

The  jasmine  breathed  sweet  creeds  upon  the  air ; 

The  milk-skinned  lily  on  the  swart  rose  leaning, 
Was  to  his  heart  a  promise  and  a  prayer; 

77 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

While  fancy  'mongst  the  blossoms  went  a-gleaning, 

And  garnered  sheaves  of  heavenly  beauty  there : 
Yet  in  it  all  there  hid  a  mystic  lore 
Whose  depths  he  struggled  vainly  to  explore. 

XX. 

And  then  he  drew  with  tender  indecision 
A  veil  about  the  image,  but  forbore 

To  smite  it  with  the  turbulent  derision 

Upheaped  on  idols  loved  and  left  before, 

For  in  the  ilow'rets  dwelt  a  dreamy  vision 

Whose  blooming  face  a  wreath  of  promise  wore, 

And  to  his  heart  ils  blue  eyes  seemed  to  say 

That  he  should  clasp  his  crown  some  happy  day. 

XXI. 

And  next  he  woke  the  mystery  that  slumbers 
In  musing  Poesy's  o'er-blossomed  strings ; 

Brimmed  up  the  summer  night  with  wooing  numbers, 
And  rained  rich  melody  from  fancy's  wings, 

While  every  icy  fetter  that  encumbers 

The  heart  notes,  in  their  wilder  flutterings, 

He  swept  aside,  and  soaring  far  and  free, 

Shook  out  the  carols  of  his  ecstasy. 

78 


SHIP  TING  8  HA  /)  Oll'S. 

XXII. 

And  then  one  night  a  maiden  stood  before  him, 
With  love's  rich  bloom  upon  her  peerless  lips, 

Who  flashed  a  thrill  of  sudden  rapture  o'er  him 
From  eyes  unused  to  sorrow's  sad  eclipse — 

Unclouded  seas  of  azure  that  upbore  him 

Upon  their  blue,  as  ocean  bears  her  ships, 

And,  in  their  dazzling  depths,  reposed  the  gem 

Which  crowned  his  life's  unfinished  diadem. 

XXIII. 

As  on  a  drifting  cloud  a  star  impinges, 

Translating  all  its  blackness  into  bloom ; 

As  morning  with  a  kiss  of  crimson  tinges 
The  marble  of  an  isolated  tomb, 

The  maiden's  eyes  behind  their  silken  fringes 
Shone  out  upon  the  poet's  life  of  gloom, 

And  lighting  up  the  shadows,  grim  and  gray, 

Swept  with  a  smile  the  long  unrest  away, 

XXIV. 

And  when  the  autumn  came  with  golden  Hushes, 
And  rich-hued  tracery  of  leaf  and  sky, 

In  murmured  vows  and  palpitating  hushes, 

The  twinkling  twilights  stole  in  rapture  by  ; 

79 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

While,  on  the  maiden's  cheek,  the  conscious  blushes 

Were  to  the  lover's  plea  a  fond  reply, 
Then  on  the  pillow  of  his  constant  breast, 
The  Idol  of  his  life  and  love  lay  pressed. 
*  *  *  *  * 

XXV. 

And  here  we  leave  him  to  his  own  resources, 
In  proud  possession  of  his  charming  bride, 

A   candidate  for  quarrels  and  divorces, 

And  all  the  wretched  rest  of  it  beside  ; 

For  true  love  runs  in  but  contracted  courses 
Since  marriage  knots  so  carelessly  are  tied 

That  Hymen,  with  his  air  most  cool  and  polished, 

Suggests  that  nuptial  nonsense  be  abolished. 

XXVI. 

We  leave  the  lady,  too,  with  white  arms  twining 
About  her  husband,  handsome,  brave,  and  true ; 

And  yet  we  part  reluctantly,  divining 

What  racy  single  combats  will  ensue — 

What  snaps  and  snarls  !    what  petulant  repining  ! 
And  broomstick  battles  !     Yes,  we  sadly  rue 

The  parting,  but  'twill  always  be  the  same ; 

-She'll  change  the  trouble  with  a  change  of  name. 

80 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

XXVII. 
And  so  the  story,  carried  to  conclusion, 

Would  blossom  to  a  wild,  fantastic  play. 
Its  moral,  chaos,  and  its  plot,  confusion, 

Its  heroes,  husbands  deftly  put  away, 
Its  heroines,  a  beautiful  illusion, 

Its  epilogue  the  trump  of  judgment-day : 
We  therefore  o'er  the  scene  a  curtain  draw, 
And  leave  the  happy  pair  to  love — and  law. 


(6)  81 


LAOUELLE  ? 

MERRY  eyes,  now  gray,  now  blue, 
Yearning,  laughing,  tender,  true 
Lips  as  red  as  rarest  roses 
Orient  garden  ever  grew, 

Velvet  cheeks  whose  bloom  discloses 
Eden's  fairest  charms  anew  ; 
Luscious  maid  I  love  so  well, 
Young  and  beautiful — laquelle  ? 

In  the  wind's  song,  wild  and  free, 

Sings  no  voice  so  sweet  to  me 

As  the  sigh  her  thoughts  compel, 
Broken  sighs  and  soft  that  tell 

Every  tender  ecstasy- 
Loved  and  lovely  maid — laquelle  ? 
82 


THE  PHANTOM  BARQUE. 

I. 

UPON  an  island  in  the  sea  of  time 
I  watched,  and    waited  : 
And  presently,  from  out  some  starry  clime, 

From  out  the  years,  with  love  and  passion  freighted, 
Across  the  rolling"  reach  of  tides  sublime 

A  sail  appeared.     Oh!  how  the  moments  grated 
O'er  harsh  impediments,  with  dull  delay, 
Until  ihe  barque  was  anchored  in  the  bay. 

II. 
Then  stole  a  wondrous  maid  my  senses  o'er, 

As  in  my  dreaming 
Full  often  had  she  sweetly  swept  before, 

Her  tropic  tresses  prodigally  streaming, 
Like  sunshine  washing  some  celestial  shore ; 

And  I  fell  down   and  worshiped,  fondly  deeming 

83 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

That  in  the  hazel  rapture  of  her  eye 
No  love  could  languish,  no  devotion  die. 

III. 

The  days  rushed  by  like  rubies,  brief  and  bright, 

Like  pearls  outscattered 
By  gentle  angels  in  ecstatic  flight : 

And  then,  alas !     Disaster  shook  her  tattered 
And  gloomy  banner  to  the  weeping  night, 

While  winds  of  desolation  smote  and  shattered 
The  brittle  fabric  of  my  love  and  trust, 
And  whirled  its  starry  fragments  in  the  dust. 
*  *  *  *  * 

IV. 

Upon  the  isle,  the  lone  and  silent  isle, 

I  still  am  biding ; 
And  gazing  o'er  the  watery  wastes  I  smile 

To  find  my  heart  with  hope  its  dreams  dividing- 
The  dreary  hope,  which  time  may  not  beguile, 

That  if  the  radiant  barque  the  waves  be  riding 
In  earth's  remotest  and  most  stormy  sea, 
It  may  come  back,  though  but  a  wreck,  to  me. 


TOLL  THE   BELL. 

TOLL  the  bell,  the  iron-throated 
Bell  despairful  ! 
Let  its  tidings  be  outfloated, 

Sad  and  prayerful, 

From  each  spire  and  dome  and  steeple, 
As  a  warning  to  the  people, 

As  a  voice  from  heaven  sped  ; 
As  a  note  of  tender  pity 
From  the  silence  of  the  city 

Of  the  dead  ! 

Toll  !     And  may  its  melancholy, 

Deep  and  solemn, 
Crush  the  heart's  incessant  folly 

As  a  column  ! 

May  its  clamor,  far  outreaching, 
More  than  dreary  wastes  of  preaching, 

85 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

Peal  at  Pleasure's  shrine, 
Ever  calling,  and  enthralling, 
With  an  eloquence  appalling, 

Terrible,  divine  ! 

Yesterday  the  clay  was  glowing, 

Now  'tis  ashes  ! 
And  the  cup  of  Fate,  o'erflowing, 

Grimly  dashes 
On  the  vital  spark  its  wave — 

Gloomy  wave  which  ever  lashes, 

And  in  sullen  silence  plashes 
On  its  shore,  the  grave  ! 

Ah  !  to  live  is  oft  to  languish 

And   repine, 
Since  around  our  dreamings  anguish 

Must  entwine  ; 

And  the  pale  thing,  named  Hereafter 
From  the  dimpled  lip  of  Laughter 

Sweeps  the  summer  bloom  ; 
While  before  his  cold  eye,  Pleasure, 
Casting  down  love's  beaded  measure, 

Totters  to  the  tomb. 

86 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

Toll,  O  sexton  !     Let  thy  muffled 

Dirge  begin, 
For  another  soul  hath  shuffled 

Off  its  sin. 

Toll,  O  sexton,  warped  and  bended, 
From  the  dead  old  years  descended, 

Toll  thy  monody  ! 
For  the  next  wild  note  that  clashes 
Over  mute,  dismantled  ashes 

May  be  rung  for  thee  ! 


FATE. 
I. 

SHE  stands  before  me,  but  I  cannot  know 
The  strange,  swift  lights  that  glow 
Within  her  great  sad  eyes, 
That  like  the  shifting  and  inconstant  skies 
Are  masking  ever  in  some  weird  disguise, 

Now  beautifully  blue, 

And   now   like   midnight,    with   fierce   lightnings    fusing 
through. 

II. 
Between  the  crimson  cleavage  of  her  lips 

A  sigh  full   often  slips, 

And  shadows,  gaunt  and  gray, 
Across  their  bloom  in  wan  procession  stray, 
Like  death-bells  tolling  on  a  bridal-day— 

Like  ghostly  footed  snows, 
Whose  crystal  kisses  blanch  the  blushes  of  the  rose. 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

III. 
I  wander  o'er  the  mountains  and  the  tides 

Where'er  her  footstep  guides ; 

Through  tangled,  tender  hours 
That  twine  their  blossoms  in  life's  secret  bowers, 
And  then  into  the  wailing  storm  which  lowers 

Along  the  patient  years, 
And  on  my  soul  outpours  the  tempest  of  its  tears. 

IV. 

Through  cloistered  sorrow's  sacristy  she  lingers 

Where  cruel  beaks  and  fingers 

My  bleeding  heart  assail ; 
Then  out  into  the  fragrance-freighted  gale — 
Still  on  forever  to  the  portal  pale, 

Death's  wan  and  waiting  gate — 
Whereto  my  guide  conducts  me,  for  her  name  is  Fate. 


REVERIES. 

THE  night  is  dark  without;    the  sobbing  rain 
Beats  baffled  at  the  spattered  window  pane, 
Imploring,  like  some  spirit  of  the  night 
A  moment  pausing  in  its  starless  flight 
To  pray  admittance.     So  I  sit,  and  think, 
While  in  the  blackened  grate  the  bright  coals  wink 
Suggestive,  and  I   watch  the  golden  stars 
That  from  their  dungeon,  and  its  iron  bars, 
In  shining  troops  depart. 


Out  from  the  aisles 
Of  some  dim   sanctuary  gayly  files 
A  bridal  train,  while  roses  underlie 
Their  footsteps  fragrantly,  and  seem  to  sigh 
A  sacrificial  blessing.     Light  of  heart 
They  pass  the  sacred  portal;  tears  may  start, 
And  fall  upon  the  rose-leaves,  but  they  rise 
90 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 


Belit  with  smiles  into  the  joyous  eyes 
That  beam  as  bright  as  Venus  in  the  skies. 


I  look  out  from   the  casement,  and  the  rain 
Beats  baffled  at  the  spattered  window  pane  ; 
I  watch  the  sodden  sky,  the  dripping  night. 
To  see  if  still  the  sparks  pursue  their  flight  : 
But  all  is  dark  !     The  clouds  bowl  blackly  by  ; 
The  wind  sweeps  through  the  cedar  with  a  sigh, 
And  in  the  dim  expanse  of  heaven  I  see 
No  point  of  brightness  which  a  spark  might  be. 
Then  to  my  sofa,  and  I  sit  and  think, 
While  in  the  blackened  grate  the  red  coals  wink 
Prophetic,  and  each  waving  spire  of  flame 
Becomes  a  monument,  whereon  no  name 
Is  written. 


Down  the  hushed  and  solemn   aisles 
Of  that  dim  sanctuary  slowly  files 
A  burial  train.     The  roses  still  are  there, 
But  bruised  and  broken ;    and  the  thorns  are  bare 
And  brittle.     Happy  feet  no  fragrance  press 
From  their  dead  leaves — and  all  is  bitterness. 


MY   BOY. 
I. 

THEY  say  that  he  is  dead— my  baby  boy, 
My  little  gentleman  with  flaxen  tresses: 
Departed  from  these  treasured-up  caresses 
Which  I  had  thought  so  fondly  to  employ: 

Forever  gone  !  while  sad  and  empty  dresses, 
And  here  and  there  a  consecrated  toy 
Are  eloquent  with  such  a  mighty  pain, 
That  he  is  wrested  back  from  heaven  again. 

II. 

A  stranger  closed  his  eyes,  his  deep  blue  eyes, 
So  like  to  violets,  and  starry  seas — 
A  stranger  drew  the  curtain  over  these, 

While  Death  stood  gloating  o'er  his  ravished  prize, 
Which,  with  his  skeleton  and  brazen  keys, 

He  had  unlocked,  and  to  the  waiting  skies 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

Let  out  the  'prisoned  spirit,  pure  and  white, 
Which  heavenward  took  its  seraph-guided  flight. 

III. 

It  booteth  not  my  lost  one  to  repine, 

My  loved,  my  little  one  no  more  forever  ! 
Twere  better  I  had  known  the  darling  never 
Than  thus  the  reaching  heart-strings  should  entwine 

About  a  sword-like  grief,  which  can  but  sever 
The  coiling  tendrils  from  the  bleeding  vine  : 
And  yet  these  arms  of  love,  though  cloven  down, 
Shoot  out  anew  to  clasp  their  sorrow's  crown. 

IV. 

His  footsteps  patter  through  the  solitude 
And  dreary  isolation  of  existence, 
With  such  a  musical  and  soft  insistence, 

That  from  its  loss  my  love  is  warped,  and  wooed, 
And  wafted  to  that  dim,  delightful  distance 

Beyond  the  azure  where  the  stars  are  strewed  ; 

And  like  a  bark  on  some  celestial  sea, 

Affection  anchors  in  eternity. 


93 


MISERERE. 

WE  stood  in  the  glorious,  golden  dawn 
Of  a  new  delightful  day, 
And  the  sunlight  fell  like  a  spirit  spell 
On  the  bonnie  brown  locks  I  love  so  well, 
And  I  looked  the  devotion  no  tongue  can  tell, 
And  a  passion  no  pen  portray. 

O  sweet  was  the  dawn  of  that  fair  day, 
With  its  pendulous  hopes  a-bloom  ; 
But  a  tempest,  apace,  smote  the  heaven's  fair  face, 
And  brushed  from  the  future  all  token  and  trace 
Of  wooing  perfume,  with  its  finger  of  gloom, 
And  wrought,  with  a  terrible  skill,  in  its  place 
A  tomb. 

And  now,  in  the  desolate  waste  of  years, 
In  the  desert  of  grief,  I  grope ; 


or  THE 
{  UNIVERSITY 

V    OF 

SHIFTING  SH A  DOM'S. 

For  death  unto  distance  yields  cruel  assistance. 
And  life  is  not  life,  it  is  merely  existence, 
While  memory  dashes  swift  tears  o'er  the  ashes 
That  bury  the  beacon  of  hope. 

We  stand  in  the  gloom  of  some  cold  curse, 

In  the  palm  of  a  pressing  pain, 
And  I  sigh  for  the  birth  of  a  happier  morn, 
When  sunlight  the  bonnie  brown  locks  may  adorn; 
Or  else,  that  the  sharpest  and  bitterest  thorn 
That  grows  o'er  the  head  of  the  dear  and  the  dead 

May  rivet  our  hearts  again. 


35 


THE  HEART. 

O    HEART!"    the   maiden  cries,  the  sighing 
maiden  ; 

"O  chalice,  sparkling  over  with  delight! 
Thou  happy  bird  with  ecstasy  down-laden 

That  makest  music  through  the  starry  night ! 
Thou  buoyant  bark,   whose  palpitating  flight 
Is  guided  on  to  love's  delicious  Aidenn  ! 
O  trusting  heart!     O  heart  with  joy  oppressed, 
Thou  makest  heavenly  anguish  in  my  breast." 

"  O  loving  heart !     Thou  heart  upheaped  with  roses  ! 
A  radiant  mother  softly  murmurs  this: 

"  O  yearning  heart,  whose  fond  arm  sweetly  closes 
About  its  new-born  rapture  !     Heart  of  bliss, 
Thou  couch,  more  downy  than  an  angel's  kiss, 

Whereon  my  bright-eyed  darling  hushed  reposes — 

96 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

Rock  gently,  heart,  within  my  joyous  breast, 
The  birdling  slumbers  in  its  swaying  nest." 

"O  weary  heart,  in  ashes  unavailing!" 

A  bended  figure  breathes  :    "  O  muffled  tomb, 
Above  whose  clay  the  kites  of  death  are  sailing 
To  mark  the  ashen  prey  they  shall  consume  ! 
O  sepulcher  of  life's  most  sweet  perfume, 
And  grave  of  love  !     Alas  !   the  day  is  failing, 
And  thou,  O  cruel  heart,  shalt  yield  me  rest, 
A  broken  thorn  within   an  icy  breast." 


TO  ATLANTA. 

BUT  yesterday  the  wild  bird  built  her  nest, 
And  reared  her  brood  of  little  ones,  where  now 
Thy  proudest  monuments  confine  the  hum 
And  hurry  of  a  multitude.     Along 
Thy  busy  marts,  one  thinks  he  almost  hears 
The  music  of  the  brook,  which  erstwhile  ran 
Discoursive  through  the  flags  and  flowerets:  and 
At  night,  when   muffled  falls  the  footstep  far 
Of  guardsman  on  his  rounds,  attentive  ears 
Can  catch  the  echo  of  the  robin's  call, 
And  seem  to  hear  the  mottled  partridge  cry 
Within  his  rosy  fastnesses.     Anon 
A  spirit  finger  from  the  pine-harp's  strings 
An  anthem  sweepeth,  and  the  forest  sings 
An  undertone  of  melody. 


* 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

The  ax 

Seems  still  to  ring  along  thy  thoroughfares, 
Responsive  to  the  brawny  arm  of  toil ; 
And  at  the  eventide  thy  flagstones  bloom, 
Or  seem  to  bloom,  with  violets.     The  wheels 
Of  thy  fast  multiplying  industries 
Are  garlanded  with  blossoms  till  they  trail 
Upon  the  highway,  and  the  eager  feet 
Of  energy  press  fragrance  from  their  leaves, 
Until  thou  might'st  have  been  by  magic  built 
Mysteriously  in  a  single  night 
Upon  a  couch  of  flowers. 

In  the  gloom 

Thy  temples  cast,  where  browsed  the  deer, 
And  burrowed  close  the  fleecy  rabbit,   now 
The  stately  cedars  nod  their  solemn  plumes, 
And  guard  like  tireless  sentinels  the  still 
And  sacred  acre ;    while  from  slated  spire 
And  heavenward-lifted  dome,  and  chapel  loft, 
The  mellow  bells  with  silver  voices  call 
To  Christian  worship. 

With  the  whistle  shrill 
Of  engines  straining  through  thy  throbbing  heart 

99 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

The  winding  horns  of  hunters  seem  to  blend, 

And  as  from  startled  hills  the  echoes  come, 

Imagination  sees  the  stay  in  flight 

Across  the  honeysuckled  distance:  there, 

Excitedly  in  hot  pursuit,  the  lank 

And  panting  hounds ;   beyond,  the  riders — fast 

They  follow,  and  the  forest  wraps  them  in. 

The  drays  upon  the  cobble-stones  are  but 

The  rattle  of  the  horses  on  the  plain, 

And  from  the  mountain  falls  a  low  refrain 

Of  winding  horns,  and  all  is  hushed  again. 

Fair  city  of  the  south,  God  speed  thee  !  may 

Thy  future  be  through  blossoms  hanging  fair 

And  sweet  athwart  thy  path.     Child  of  the  woods, 

Thy  proud  escutcheon  be  the  kingly  oak 

Whose  throne  within  the  virgin  solitudes 

Thy  queenly  arm  o'erthrew,  and  in  the  wealth 

Of  thine  unbraided  tresses  I  would  weave 

This  humble  chaplet,  for  as  blushed 

The  dove-eyed  Venus  from  the  lisping  sea, 

So  from  the  chalice  of  the  wild  rose  grew 

Thy  wondrous  charms,  Atlanta. 


THE  DOVE  AND  THE  MAIDEN, 

THE  sad  dove  sits  in  her  dim  retreat 
In  the  wild  wood,  hushed  and  lone, 
And  never  a  note  is  heard  in  her  throat 

Save  now  and  anon  a  moan. 
A  light  wing  comes  on  the  balmy  air 

And  gladdens  the  waiting  dove, 
Then  off  to  the  hills  and  the  glistening  rills 
She  hies  with  her  cooing  love. 

A  maiden  stands  in  the  slanting  glow 

Of  the  amber-dripping  west, 
But  not  in  her  dreams  are  its  yellow  beams, 

Nor  the  star  with  the  crimson  crest. 
A  footstep  sounds  on  the  gravel  walk, 

A  footstep  glad  and  free ; 
And  the  maiden  can  bide  no  thought  beside, 

"My  darling  comes  back  to  me!" 


THE  FEVER. 

I. 

HE  stood  in  the  twilight  as  the  stars 
Grew  golden  in  the  sky, 
And  never  a  word  his  pale  lips  stirred 

Save  "Kiss  me,"  and  "Good  by;" 
Then  she  to  her  lonely  grief,  and   he 

In  the  path  where  duty  led — 
To  the  city  of  graves  and  sobbing  waves, 
The  city  of  the  dead. 

II. 
Rosy  of  cheek  and  strong  of  limb, 

And  sturdy  of  heart  was  he ; 

But  the  yellow  fiend's  call  was  in  hovel  and  hall,. 
And  the  city  was  wrapped  in  a  deathly  pall, 

The  city  beside  the  sea. 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

He  stood  by  the  couch  of  rich  and  poor, 

Through  weary  night  and  day, 
Watching  the  spark  go  out  in  the  dark, 
And  cruel  death  come,  stiff  and  stark, 

And  fasten  upon  the  clay  : 
And  he  thought  of  the  twilight  when  the  stars 

Grew  golden  in  the  sky  ; 
When  never  a  word  his  lips  had  stirred 

Save  "Kiss  me,"  and   "Good  by." 

III. 

Hither  and  thither  the  death  carts  sped, 

And  the  city  was  wan  with  woe; 
For  never  a  spot  had  death  forgot, 
And  crape  hung  down  from  castle  and  cot, 

And  the  waving  wind  breathed  low. 
Fair  were  the  stars  and  bright  the  dew, 

But  how  could  the  people  know  ! 

For  the  men  were  cowed  and  the  women  were  bowed, 
Fearing  to  comfort  each  other  aloud, 
And  the  moonlight  hung  like  a  saffron  shroud 
On  the  prostrate  earth   below. 


SHIP  TIN  G  SHA  1)  O IV S. 

IV. 

She  sat  in  her  mountain  home  afar, 

And  sad  was  her  heart  in  its  pain ; 
For  the  summer  was  fled,  and  the  blossoms  were  dead, 
And  the  spirit-winds,  tossing  the  broken  leaves,  said, 

"He  will  not  come  back  again." 
And  she  thought  of  the  twilight  when  the  stars 

Grew  golden  in  the  sky, 
When  never  a  word  his  pale  lips  stirred 

Save  "Kiss  me,"  and  "Good  bv." 


She  pined  in  her  dreary  mountain  home, 

For  the  wintry  sky  was  gray ; 
And  her  heart  beat  low  as  the  sifting  snow 
Fell  on  the  hills  and  the  bottoms  below, 
And  feeling  her  sad  heart  wed  to  woe, 

She  knelt  her  down  to  pray. 
And  she  prayed:  "If  God  be  a  merciful  God, 

In  pity  look  down  on  me  ! 
And  save  htm  from   harms,   to  these  empty  arms, 

In  the  city  beside  the  sea." 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

She  lifted  her  face  from  the  dust— " Thank  God!" 
And  she  rushed  to  her  darling's  breast; 

For  the  saffron  king,  on  his  fatal  wing, 

Had  claimed  him  not  as  an  offering, 

And  she  clung  to  him  close,  like  some  tenderest  thing, 
And  sobbed  herself  to  rest. 

VI. 

And  so  while  the  snow-flakes  fluttered  down, 

Like  blanched  buds  from  the  sky, 
Full  many  a  word  his  rich  lips  stirred, 
And  "Kiss  me,  sweetheart,"  oft  was  heard, 

But  never  again   "Good  by." 


THE    BLOSSOM   AND   THE   BREEZE. 

I. 

THERE  was  a  blossom  fairer  far 
Than  lilies  are, 
And  sweeter  than  the  .sweetest  rose 

That  overflows 
With  fragrant  sighs  beneath  the  skies, 

To  twilight's  glorious  star. 

II. 

And  to  this  blossom,  pure  and  bright, 
One  glowing  night, 

A  breeze  from  haunts  of  summer  seas 
And  orange-trees, 

By  some  fierce  spell,  no  tongue  may  tell. 
Was  guided  in  his  flight. 
1 06 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

III. 

The  fond  wind  from  his  waving  plumes 
Shook  thick  perfumes, 

And  sighed  as  sadly  as  the  pale 
And  spectral  gale, 

Whose  melancholy  pinions  trail 

O'er  long-forgotten  tombs. 

IV. 

Then,  on  the  cradle  of  his  breast, 
He  rocked  to  rest 

The  wondrous  glory  of  the  flower, 
That  blissful  hour, 

And  softly  sung  with  honeyed  tongue 

To  her  he  loved  the  best. 

V. 
O,  tender  was  the  truth,  and  true, 

Between  the  two, 
When  to  her  lover's  wooing  arms, 

Her  blushing  charms, 
The  blossom  bright,  that  starry  night, 

So  passionately  threw. 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

VI. 

But  suddenly  a  shadow  stole 

Across  the  soul 
Of  blossom  and  of  breeze — a  shape 

With  wings  of  crape, 
That  urged  its  flight  athwart  the  night 

From  out  the  frozen  pole. 

VII. 

Then  from  the  blossom's  cheek  the  red 

In  terror  fled, 
While  silently  about  her  charms 

The  ghostly  arms 
Wove  out  of  ice,  in  strange  device, 

A  shroud — for  she  was  dead. 

VIII. 

And  then  the  sad  wind  strewed  the  flowers, 
Through  night's  long  hours, 

With  bootless  tears  ;   and  in  the  fir 
He  mourned  for  her 

With  all  those  sweet  appeals  that  stir 

These  human  hearts  of  ours. 

108 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

IX. 

But  still  unto  the  wind's  sad  wing 
Sweet  odors  cling — 

Fond  waftures  from  life's  faded  bloom, 
The  soul's  perfume  ; 

And  evermore  the  twilights  bring 

The  breeze  unto  the  tomb. 


109 


BABY'S    PRAYER. 

THE  mute  white  snow-flakes  drifted 
From  a  dim  and  dusky  sky, 
And  my  darling's  eyes  were  lifted 

From  a  sweet  face,  soft  and  shy, 
As  the  firelight  shone  and  shifted, 

And  the  Christmas-tide  drew  nigh. 

She  sat  at  my  feet  in  silence, 

And  I  knew  some  deep  request 

Like  a  prayer  was  hung  on  her  silent  tongue, 
That  a  fond  hope  was  suppressed, 

That  a  song  in  the  soul  was  still  unsung, 
Like  a  tune  in  a  dreamer's  breast. 

Then  I  smoothed  her  fluffy  tresses 
And  sought  for  the  hidden  cause, 

And  said,   "  What  is  it  oppresses 

My  child?"     Then,  after  a  pause, 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

She  said,  "Please,  mamma,  I  duesses 
I'll  wite  to  dood  Santa  Glaus!" 

So  she  sat  in  the  glow  of  the  firelight, 
With  paper  and  ink  and  pen, 

And  wrote  :    "  I  pray  that  Santa  Glaus  may 
Bring  candy  and  nuts  agen  ; 

But  he  mustn't  fordet  a  nice  tea-set, 
For  Desus  Christ's  sake,  amen." 

And  when  on  the  fateful  morning 

The  stocking  hung  huge  and   fair, 

With  fat  sides  swelling  as  cunningly  telling 
The  treasures  in  ambush  there, 

She  cried  in  delight,  all  crimson  and  white, 

And  beautiful  after  the  balm  of  the  night, 
"  O  mamma,  he  answered  my  prayer  ! " 

And  I  pray  that   the  heavenly  Giver, 

The  giver  of  gifts  divine, 
May  shelter  from  harm  with  his  mighty  arm 

This  opening  bud  of  mine, 
And  take  it  to  rest  on  his  gentle  breast 

When  loosed  from  its  earthly  vine. 


LEGEND    OF   THE    KISSIMMEE. 


I. 

FULL  many  a  long,  long  year  ago, 
In  the  land  of  sighing  pines, 
Where  the  daintiest  blossoms  forever  blow, 
And  the  breath  of  the  breeze  is  as  sweetly  low 
As  a  love-song  in  the  vines, 


II. 

A  dark-eyed  Indian  maid  abode, 

With  a  heart  still  proudly  free, 
For  the  hand  of  fate  had  opened  the  gate 
Which  darkens  the  years,  and  bade  her  wait, 
And  she  bowed  to  the  mystery. 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 


III. 

Full  many  a  dusky  suitor  came 

And  wooed  in  the  dewy  hours  ; 
But  her  virgin  breast  was  still   unpressed 
When  she  threw  her  olive  charms  to  rest 
On  her  fragrant  couch  of  flowers. 


IV. 

And  then,   one  warm  and  languorous  ever 

With  a  new  and  strange  delight, 
She  heard  a  crush  of  the  underbrush, 
And  her  heart  beat  audibly  in  the  hush 
Of  the  still  and  starry  night ; 


V. 

For  out  of  the  shadows  strode  a  youth 

With  a  golden  cloud  of   hair, 
And  a  sweet  blue  eye,  like  an  April  skyr 
Over  which  the  clouds  like  shadows  fly 
To  leave  it  still  more  fair. 

(8)  113 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 


VI. 

The  star-rays  fell  in  a  storm  of  light, 

And  the  man  and  the  maid  were  dumb ; 
But  the  girl's  great  eyes  shone  under  the  skies 
With  a  luminous,  glad,  and  soft  surprise, 
For  she  felt  that  her  fate  had  come. 

VII. 

And  when  from  the  stranger's  rose-red  lips 

A  quaint  sweet  murmur  fell, 
She  knew  what  it  meant  by  the  thrill  it  sent 
To  her  longing  heart — and  she  was  content 

To  look  what  she  could  not  tell. 


VIII. 

And  the  nut-brown  arms  reached  out  and  up, 

With  a  touching  and  tender  grace, 
And  she  hung  at  rest  on  her  idol's  breast 
As  her  passionate  heart  was  fondly  pressed 
In  the  fold  of  his  sweet  embrace. 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 


IX. 

Full  many  a  moon  had  waxed  and  waned, 

And  the  youth  with   the  golden  hair 
Still  murmured  of  love  to  his  wildwood  dove, 
While  blossoms  rained  down  from  the  bowers  above 
And  gladdened  the  glowing  air. 


X. 

And  the  loved  and  loving  Indian  maid 

In  her  mate's  strange  language  cooed, 
But  its  dreariest  note  in  her  golden  throat 
From  a  hidden  harp-string  seemed  to  float 
In  the  flowery  solitude. 


XI. 

One  warm  October  afternoon 

This  youth  of  the  maiden's  heart, 
With  bow  in  hand,  by  the  silver  sand 
Of  a  river  which  coursed  through  that  fair  land, 
Was  aiming  his  deadly  dart. 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 


XII. 

For  his  ear  had  caught  the  snap  of  a  twig 
'Neath  the  weight  of  a  cautious  tread, 
And  the  sudden  sway  of  a  myrtle  spray 
Unveiled  a  glimpse  of  his  lurking  prey 
In  its  fresh  and  flowery  bed. 


XIII. 

A  twang  of  the  bow-string,  and  the  flash 

And  flight  of  the  cruel  dart, 
And  the  maiden  lay  in  the  shadows  gray, 
Sighing  her  true  young  soul  away 
On  her  husband's  broken  heart. 


XIV. 

She  told  the  tale  of  her  loneliness, 

And  her  quest  by  the  river's  brink 
For  the  form  so  fair,  with  its  golden  hair, 
For  she  knew  that  his  step  would  tarry  there 
Till  the  deer  came  down  to  drink. 

116 


SHIFTING   SHADOWS. 


XV. 

And  then  as  her  life  was  drifting  out 

To  the  weird  and  waveless  sea, 
With  a  queenly  grace  she  swept  the  trace 
Of  a  tear  from  her  darling's  livid   face, 
And  said,  "Sweet  love,  kissa  me!" 


XVI. 

And  so  with  that  sad  and  pure  embrace 

On  her  quivering  lips  impressed, 
Her  life's  young  flower  from   its  earthly  bower 
Was  caught  to  the  stars  in  the  twilight  hour, 
And  laid  upon  mercy's  breast. 


XVII. 

'Twas  many  a  long,  long  year  ago, 
But  the  Indian  maid's  request 
Shall  ever  abide  the  name  of  the  tide 
Upon  whose  tropical  bank  she  died, 
And  where  her  ashes  rest. 


PAWNING  THE    PETTICOAT. 


I. 

YES,  stranger,  those  was  high  old  times, 
And  seem'  as  how  it's  you, 
I'll  mention  the  job  we  worked  on  Bob 

In  eighteen  fifty-two. 

Well,  yes ;    if  you  think  a  previous  drink 
Wud  hurry  the  story  through. 


II. 

You  see  this  Bob  was  a  tenderfoot, 

But  he  had  onusule  eyes 
That  showed  the  stuff  ter  weaken  a  rough, 

An'  stands  in  the  place  of  size ; 
So  the  boys  agreed  that  he  wouldn't  bluff, 

Which  no  one  yet  denies. 


SHU- TING   SHADOWS. 

III. 

Well,  stranger,  arter  a  lengthy  spell, 

Which  I  am  proud  ter  say, 
Bob  struck  it  rich  with  a  sluicin'  ditch 

An'  tuk  out  thundering  pay, 
Then  treated  the  town,  from   the  bar-keep  down, 

An'   left  on  the  follerin'  day. 

IV. 

Some  six  or  eight  months  arterwards, 

When  the  boys  was  on  a  spree, 
A-slingin'  the  dust  in  the  way  the  wust 

Perhaps  that  ever  1  see, 
Ole  Flowery  Pete  riz  up  on  his  feet 

An'  fired  a  wink  at  me. 

V. 

An'  layin'  his  holt  on  my  shoulder,  so, 

A-seekin'  the  natur'l  plumb, 
He  drug  me  up  ter  the  soshil  cup 

(Containin'  the  best  of  rum), 
An'  takin'  a  most  almighty  dost, 

Remarked,   "Miss  Bob  has  come  !'r 


SHIP  TING  SHA  D  O  WS . 

VI. 
Ag'in? — say,  stranger,  I'm  not  dry, 

Onless — well,  gimme  a  sweet; 
Or  what  do  you  think  of  the  soshil  drink 

I  took  with  Flowery  Pete? 
Jest  suits?     That's  me!  so  here  we  be, 

An'  may  \ve  ofting  meet. 

VII. 

I  circled  around,  you  may  believe, 

A-scatterin'  wide  the  news ; 
A-tellin'  the  boys  ter  quit  the'r  noise, 

An'  gatherin'  diffrunt  views  ; 
An'  it  was  agreed  that  the  gal  Pete  seed 

Was  purty  as  dancin'  shoes. 

VIII. 

But  women  had  never  come  before, 

An'  Bob  had  shook  the  gang ; 
So  the  Jedge  and  me  talked  privatelee, 

While  Pete  an'  the  fellers  sang ; 
But  we  couldn't  decide  what  ter  do  with  the  bride 

In  case  it  was  a  hang. 


S HI F TI NG  SHADO W S . 

IX. 

It  wasn't  the  gal  so  much,  you  know, 

We  sorter  give  in  ter  that, 
But  women  will  bring  sich  an  endless  strin; 

Of  parsons,  ter  pass  the  hat; 
So  me  an'  the  Jedge  was  clean  on   edge, 

Like  the  tail  of  a  tousled  cat. 

X. 

We  couldn't  agree,  the  Jedge  an'  me, 
So  we  went  for  a  soshil  glass, 

An'  it  helped  me  some,  fur  an  idee  come 
I  didn't  allow  ter  pass, 

So  I  told  the  boys  ter  quit  the'r  noise 
An'  form  in  a  judgment  class. 

XL 

An'  then  we  helt  a  kinder  court, 
An'  the  case  was  fairly  tried — 

Fur  the  Jedge  an'  me  was  sober,  you  see 
(Which  never  has  been  denied), 

An'  we  finerly  said,  that  alive  or  dead, 
The  boys  should  see  the  bride. 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

XII. 

An'  that  ain't  all — the   court   an'  me 
Composed  the  plaintive's  fine, 

A  mild  invite,  in  words  perlite, 
Fur  Bob  ter  furnish  the  wine; 

Then  Flowery  Pete  waltzed  inter  the  sireet 
An'  formed  us  in  a  line. 

XIII. 
The  boys  was  very  quiet  like, 

But  walked  in  ways  amazin', 
An'  the  Jedge  an'  me  was  constant! ee 

Kept  wonderin'  an'  a-gazin'; 
Fur  I  must  say  them  boys  that  day 

Showed  terrible  good  raisin'. 

XIV. 

We  halted  at  the  cabin  gate, 

An'  the  Jedge  an'  me  went  in, 

An'  we  found  the  lass  at  her  lookin'-glass 
A-fixin'  a  diamon'  pin  : 

An3  the  Jedge  was  red  all  over  his  head 
A-wonderin'  whar  ter  begin. 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

XV. 

An'  I  never  see  a  purtier  face 

Than  I  see  thar  an'  then, 
Fur  her  doe-like  eyes  was  a  fine  surprise 

At  the  mob  of  drunken  men ; 
So  the  Jedge  an'  me  says  soothinlee, 

"Thar's  only  a  hundred  an'  ten!" 

XVI. 

Then  we  perlitely  ast  fur  Bob, 

But  he  was  at  the  mine ; 
So  we  bowed  as  low  as  our  heads  wud  go, 

An'  j'ined  the  staggerin'  line; 
But  the  boys  was  as  full  as  a  tick  on  a  bull, 

An'  howled  fur  a  tank  of   wine. 

XVII. 
Then  Pete  stepped  forth  an'  spoke  a  piece, 

An',  stranger,  you'd  a  died  ! 
He  said  as  Bob  was  off  at  his  job, 

Supposin'  we  pawned  the  bride, 
An'  Bob's  ole  mar'  a-standin'  thar 

Wud  give  'er  a  way-up  ride. 


/ 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

XVIII. 
I  don't  know  how  it  happened  next, 

But  somehow  Flowery  Pete 
Come  out  with  the  bride,  rigged  up  fur  a  ride, 

An'  lookin'  tremenjous  sweet; 
An'  her  cheeks  was  red — so  the  fellers  said — 

An'  tender  enough  ter  eat. 

XIX. 

An'  so  we  fetched  Miss  Bob  ter  the  bar, 

An'  read  what  we  had  wrote, 
When  Pete,  like  a  fool,  clomb  up  on  a  stool 

An'  called  for  a  risin'  vote  ! 
But  we  shet  him  up  with  a  soshil  cup 

An'  mortgaged  the  petticoat. 

XX. 

Another,  stranger?     Well,  I  will, 
If  this  makes — yes,  makes  two: 

I'll  take  the  same,  which  I  need  not  name, 
A  drop  of  the  soshil  dew; 

An'  here's  success  ter  yer  little  game, 
An'  health  an'  wealth  ter  you. 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

XXI. 

Well,  that's  about  the  way  it  was, 

An5  the  boys  got  squar'ly  blind; 

But  the  Jedge  an'  me  kept  sober  ter  see 
How  Bob  wud  show  his  mind ; 

But  he  paid  the  bill  with  a  right  good-will, 

An'  galloped  the  mar'  back  down  the  hill, 
A-packin'  his  wife  behind. 

XXII. 

An'  sence  that  time  Miss  Bob  has  been 

The  purtiest  gal  that  grows, 
Fur  the  boys  confess  she  ain't  no  less 

Than  a  saint  in  female  close — 
Which  same  ter  deny  is  a  weepin'  eye, 

An'  the  bloodiest  sort  of  nose. 

XXIII. 
Well,  good   by,  stranger:    call  ag'in ; 

An'  are  you  travelin'  fur? 
It's  no  more  good  in  Cottonwood, 

An'  the  times  ain't  got  no  stir — 
Say  !   up  the  street— that's  Flowery  Pete, 

A-walkin'  along  o'  her. 


OREGON    SUE. 

A  LEGEND  OF  '53. 

I. 

WELL,  stranger,  here  you  are  ag'in  ; 
Now  take  a  smile  with  me  : 
Jest  kind  of  light,  an'  bide  all  night, 

For  board  an'  bed  is  free — 
Not  countin'  a  yarn  you'd  like  ter  1'arn — 
Come  in  !     What  shall  it  be? 

II. 
The  same?     Now  that  is  soshil  like, 

So  here's  a-lookin'  ter  you ; 
An'  here's  ter  the  wife — what !   dern  my  life 

If  I  ain't  heard  you'd  two  ! 

Well,  here's  may  you  find  a  lass  ter  your  mind, 
A  lovin'  one,  an'  a  true. 
126 


\ 

SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 


III. 

Jest  set  down  while  I  stir  the  fire 

An'  tumble  the  nag  some  hay, 
For  you  an'  the  brute  is  in  cahoot 

A-honorin'  me  this  day  : 
So  freeze  ter  a  seat  an'  toast  your  feet — 

I  won't  be  gone  ter  stay. 
*  *  *  * 

IV. 
The  yarn?     Well,  back  in  'fifty-three 

The  wimmen  was  raly  few, 
So  Flowery  Pete  got  frightful  sweet 

On  a  Injin  gal  he  knew; 
An'  I  seldom  see  two  folks  agree 

Like  him  an'  Oregon  Sue. 

V. 

An'  this  I  say,  that  an  ugly  mug 
Belongs  ter  the  Injin  race, 

But  Oregon  Sue  was  white  cl'ar  through 
In  spite  of  her  yaller  face, 

An'  her  close  was  clean  as  ever  I  seen 
In  the  most  respectful  place. 
127 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

VI. 

So  the  Jedge  an5  me,  accordin'lee, 

Without  a  blot  or  flaw, 
D  rawed  up  a  writ  a-statin'  it 

That  Pete  could  take  the  squaw  ; 
An5  the  boys  all  signed,  for  ter  make  it  bind, 

Providin'  it  come  ter  law. 

VII. 

An'  arter  the  sarvice  Pete  an'  Sue 

Remained  thar,  side  by  side, 
For  well  they  knew  the  entire  crew 

Was  waitin'  ter  kiss  the  bride  ; 
An'  when  it  was  done,  an'  Pete  took  one, 

She  fell  on  his  neck  an'  cried. 

VIII. 
It  wasn't  the  thing,  perhaps,  ter  do, 

But  the  boys  agreed  with  me, 
That  she  went  ter  rest  on  her  pardner's  breast. 

The  sweetest  that  ever  we  see — 
A-lookin',  we  said,  like  a  rosebud  red, 

A-twinin'  around  a  tree. 


128 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

IX. 

An5,  strange  as  it  sounds,  the  last  man  thar 

Was  actin'  the  plainest  lie, 
Ter  make  it  appear  it  wasn't  a  tear 

A-gatherin'  in  his  eye ; 
But  the  Jedge  an'  me  could  certingly  see 

Thar  wasn't  a  dern  one  dry. 

X. 

An'  thinkin'  the  gal  was  lonesome  like, 
With  nothin'  but  men  in  sight, 

We  straggled  away  with  nothin'  ter  say, 
An'  dodged  about  in  the  night  ; 

An'  my  partin'  view  was  Oregon  Sue 
A-huggin'  him  clost  an'  tight. 

XI. 

Well,  in  them  days  the  Injun  tribes 
Was  buckin'  in  ways  severe  ; 

An'  signal-lights  shone  out  o'  nights 
On  the  mountings,  fur  and  near  ; 

But  Flowery's  bride  bein'  on  our  side, 
We  didn't  have  much   ter  fear. 

(9)  120 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

XII. 

One  night  she  seen  the  suddent  flash 

Of  a  green,  onusule  star, 
An'  she  said  it  meant  that  the  tribes  was  bent 

On  liftin'  the  miners'   ha'r — 
An'  you  may  believe,   which  I  won't  deceive, 

They  come — an'  they  found  us  thar ! 

XIII. 
We  left  Miss  Bob  an'  Oregon  Sue 

With  a  guard  drawed  out  ter  stay, 
Then  inter  the  shade  that  the  mountings  made 

We  silently  stole  away, 
As  willin' — as  glad — ter  fight  by  night 

As  ever  we  was  by  day. 

XIV. 

But  Sue  got  out  and  dodged  the  guard, 

An'  never  lost  sight  of  Pete  ; 
An'  the  boys  all  say  she  blazed  away 

In  a  style  it  was  hard  ter  beat; 
An'  Pete  was  as  proud  as  a  tipsy  crowd 

A-packin'  her  down  the  street. 


130 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

XV. 

The  signal-fires  still  blazed  around, 
But  the  imps  was  monstrous  shy, 

For  well  they  knew  that  Oregon  Sue 
Could  sleep  with  an  open  eye ; 

An'  venturin'  out  was  gitten  about 
The  same  thing  as  ter  die. 

XVI. 

So  winter  come.     'Twas  Christmas  eve — 
That's  right  !     Don't  wait  for  me  ; 

You  want  it  hot  ?     As  well  as  not — 
That's  Flowery  ter  a  T, 

An'  Oregon  Sue  could  mix  a  stew 
The  touchin'est  ever  I  see. 

XVII. 

Well,  stranger,  snow  was  driftin'  fast, 

In  flakes  so  wide  acrost 
That  Flowery  Pete  a-crossin'  the  street 

Come  dern  nigh  gitten  lost; 
But  we  warmed  him  up  with  a  soshil  cup, 

An'  laughed  at  the  fallin'  frost. 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

XVIII. 

An'  airly  Christmas  day,  when  we 
Was  pilotin'  Pete  ter  bed, 

Thar  wasn't  a  stick  nor  stone  nor  brick 
Ter  kiver  his  curly  head ; 

An'  under  the  snow,  by  a  broken  bow, 
The  pride  of  his  life  lay  dead. 

XIX. 

We  planted  her  under  an  old  oak  tree, 
A-keepin'  the  fact  in  mind, 

That  lettin'  the  bark  be  ever  so  dark, 
A  white  heart  hides  behind  ; 

An'  Oregon  Sue  had  a  soul  as  true 
As  the  fairest  of  womankind. 


132 


DEAD   MAN'S    BAR. 
I. 

THEY  used  ter  call  this  Dead  Man's  Bar, 
And  if  you  wish  the  why, 
I  happen  ter  know  how  come  it  so 

(Which  no  one  will  deny); 
For  I  worked  here  then,  with  a  gang  of  men, 
In  the  claim  you're  settin'  by. 

II. 

One  day  while  techin'  off  a  blast, 

With  somethin'  else  in  mind, 
A  man  was  blowed  in  a  way  we  knowed 

Wud  finerly  make  him  blind  ; 
So  we  sent  him  East  with  a  rattlin'  beast, 

An'  the  best  guide  we  could  find. 
133 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

III. 

The  guide,  his  name  was  Portagee  Joe, 

A  yallerish-lookin'  case, 
With  here  an'  thar  a  stragglin'  ha'r 

A-hangin'  in  keerless  grace, 
But  his  eyes  was  keen  as  ever  I  seen 

In  a  livin'  human's  face. 

IV. 

The  boys  all  come  ter  the  startin'  out, 
An'  we  sent  'm  off  in  style, 

Full  up  ter  the  chin  with  the  best  of  gin, 
An'  bottles  for  arter  a  while  ; 

An'  the  bags  of  dust,  from  last  to  fust, 
Was  a  most  respectful  pile. 

V. 

We  stood  right  whar  we're  settin'  now, 
An'  watched  'm  climb  the  trail, 

An'  the  last  we  heard  was  a  grateful  word 
In  the  blind  man's  partin'  hail  ; 

So  I  turned  away  with  my  heart  that  day 
As  big  as  a  yearlin'  whale. 

134 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

VI. 

We  kinder  knocked  off  work  that  day, 

Because  the  boys  all  said 
That  goin'  away  ter  the  East  to  stay 

Was  somethin'  like  goin'  dead ; 
So  we  writ  a  pome  on  the  joys  of  home, 

Which  the  drunken  bar-keep  read. 

VII. 

Next  day  a  rumer  come  ter  camp, 

That  wasn't  believed  by  me, 
Which  said  that  Joe  was  seed  ter  go 

A-boatin' — which  might  be — 
But  it  was  shown  he  was  alone, 
An'  paddlin'  for  the  sea. 

VIII. 

That  day  we  found  the  blind  man,  dead, 

With  his  rattlin'  beast  clost  by, 
An'  the  boys  all  felt  like  the'r  hearts  wud    melt 

(Not  bein'  the  gang  ter  cry), 
For  they  couldn't  unsay  that  goin'  away 

Wras  pretty  much  like  ter  die. 

135 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

IX. 

We  buried  him  by  that  biggest  fir, 
But  we  didn't  turn  on  no  pray'r, 

For  we  all  agreed  that  he  had  no  need 
Of  help  that  a  man  could  spar'  ; 

An'  we  put  it  down  that  he'd  git  his  crown, 
If  heaven  was  on  the  squar'. 

X. 

Well,  Portagee  Joe  had  stole  a  boat, 
For  the  trail  he  knowed  full  well 

Wud  give  us  a  clew  we'd  foller  cl'ar  through 
Ter  Afriky  or  ter  hell  ; 

So  he  took  the  boat,  a-hopin'  ter  float, 
Whar  nothin'   was  left  ter  tell. 

XI. 

But  show  me  a  craft  in  the  univarse 
Can  paddle  the  Klamath  through, 

For  the  shoals  an'   rocks  etarnally  knocks 
The  best  of  'm  black  an'  blue ; 

An'  arter  a  while — I'll  give  'm  a  mile — 
The  stoutest  is  broke  in  two. 
136 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

XII. 

So  Joe  an'  the  gin  an'  the  dust  went  down, 
But  the  boat  was  washed  ashore, 

The  sorriest  wreck,  I  do  expeck, 
That  ever  was  seed  before  ; 

But  the  onery  guide  slunk  under  the  tide, 
And  never  come  up  no  more. 

XIII. 

Well,  well  !     It's  many  a  good  long  year 
Sence  plantin'  the  blind  one  thar  ; 

But  my  stifFnin'  j'ints  is  the  only  p'ints 
(An5  the  whit'nin'  of  my  ha'r) 

That  makes  me  know  how  long  ago 
I  mined  on  Dead  Man's  Bar. 


137 


THE  GROWL  OF  THE  GOLD- 
DIGGER. 

I. 

I    AIN'T  no  hand  ter  kick  or  buck 
Agin  a  losin'   run  of  luck, 

Not  even  if  I'm  busted  ; 
But  raly,  if  I  was  a  saint 
(Which  you  may  rightly  judge  I  ain't 

With  being  scripter  rusted), 
I  couldn't  help  from  speakin'  out. 
An'  may  be  cussin,  too,  about 

The  way  that  I  am   wusted. 

II. 

I  don't  complain  of  little  pay, 
Which  nat'rally  declines  away 

In  ways  sometimes  expected ; 

138 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

But  when  the  children  on  the  claims 
Is  named  the  most  jaw-breakin'  names 

It's  time  that  I  objected. 
For  now  we've  got,  ter  all  intents, 
More  kernels,  kings,  and  presidents 

Than  ever  was  elected. 


III. 

Thar's  Greasy  Jake  on  Chiny  Flat 
Has  named  his  last  forthcomin'  brat 

Mahony  Adams  Linkum, 
An'  Josh  has  named  his  youngest  gal 
Miss  Roseoler  Balmoral 

Elizerbelly  Pinkum, 

When  neither  one  ain't  worth  the  lead, 
Much  less  the  rope,  when  all  is  said, 

That  it  wud  take  ter  sink  'm, 


IV. 

Thar's  Shote,  a  squaw-man,  with  a  gang 
Of  young  uns  growin'  up  ter  hang 
Onless  they  greatly  alter  ; 

139 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

For  Alfred  Byron  Marmaduke, 
An'  Simon  Revelations  Luke, 

Is  sp'ilin'  for  the  halter  ; 
An'  so  is  Stonewall  Moses  Lee, 
An'  Judus  Guiteau  Saducee 

Pythagoras  Gibralter. 


V. 

Virginny  Cleopatrer  Rose 
An'  Luna  Grade  Adipose 

Is  gals  upon  the  marry  ; 
But  all  the  boys  has  said  ter  Shote 
They  jedged  the'r  fortunes  couldn't  float 

With  so  much  style  ter  carry  ; 
Still  Shote  he  called  the  final  one 
Posthumous  Spiral  Rubicon 

Integumental  Harry. 


VI. 

Olfactory  Snipe  has  eight  or  ten, 
For  instance  :    Ebenezer  Ben 

Sir  Walter  Homer  Tanner, 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

Helena  Shakspere  Simplified, 
Pelucid  Astor  Ingleside 

Indigenous  Bandanner, 
Eructible  Rebecker  Ruth, 
An*  likewise  Boberlink  Forsooth 

Imprimis  Susquehanner, 


VII. 

Thar's  David  Oleander  Grant 
(Whose  eyes  is  most  tremenjous  slant 

An'  legs  is  bowed  amazin'— 
An'  I  must  say  my  mind  ain't  fixed 
On  which  is  most  infernal  mixed, 

His  walkin'  or  his  gazin')  ; 
An'  thar's  his  sister  Ivanhoe 
Saint  Agnis,  which  I  bet  ter  know 

More  deviltry  than  raisin'. 

VIII. 

Thar's  Revrund  Barnum  Beechers  Toe, 
A  twin  ter  Ikabod  Defoe 

Sartoris  Salamander; 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

An'  Medieval  Tildun  Elaine 
(Another  twin — ter  Ponchertraine 

Polaris  Alexander)  ; 
An'  last,  not  least,  is  Eglantine 
Ginevrer  Donna  Ginuine 

Miss  Burdett  Couts  Mirander. 


IX. 

I've  had  the  measles,  rheumatiz, 
An'  all  the  wust  of  ills  thar  is, 

But  they  was  quite  a  frolic- 
Was  recreations  of  delight, 
An'  pleasanter  a  dogon  sight 

Than  names  so  dierbolic  ; 
For  Grundy  Colfax  Omnibus 
Sut  Lovingood  upsets  me  wuss 

Than  cramps  assistin'  colic. 


X. 

My  arms  and  legs  was  frequent  broke, 
Which  no  one  heard  a  cuss  word  spoke 

Though  constant  recommended  ; 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

But  thar's  a  p'int  whar  human  grit 
Gits  weakened,  like  a  bow  when  it 

Is  kept  eternal  bended  ; 
An'  so  as  krckin'  ain't  no  use, 
It's  rulable  to  cut  aloose 

As  latterly  intended. 


XI. 

I  principally  hate  ter  growl, 
But  durn  my  picter  for  an  owl 

If  this  ain't  overdoin'  ! 
I'd  ruther,  as  a  constant  thing, 
Set  down  upon  a  hornit's  sting, 

Or  fight  a  hungry  bruin, 
Than  everlastin'ly  ter  hear 
Them  titles  ringin'  in  my  ear, 

Amountin'  ter  blue  ruin, 


XII. 

I  come  out  here  in  'forty-nine. 
But  now  I'm  ready  to  resign 

An'  shake  all  ol'  connections. 

143 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

I  want  to  find  some  blessid  spot 
Whar  children  ain't — at  least  is  not 

Beholden  to  elections 
An'  sich  for  names  that,  ciphered  outr 
Wud  kiver  nigh  onter  about 

A  mile  in  all  directions. 


144 


SONG    OF    THE    KLAMATH. 


I. 

A  MERRY  and  mad  and  terrible  stream, 
That  dashes  and  gleams  and  gloats 
O'er  dead  men's  bones  and  golden  stones, 

And  the  wreck  of  a  thousand  boats, 
O'er  the  strangled  tones  and  muffled  moans 
Of  a  "throng  of  silent  throats. 


II. 

Ay,  terrible,  merry,  and  mad  they  say, 
Though  I  revel  and  roll  in  smiles; 
But  the  human  race  with  its  pallid  face 
Will  hurry  asvay  from  my  dread  embrace 

As  I  dance  through  the   mountain  aisles. 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 


III. 

And  well  may  they  fear  this  timorous  tribe, 

For  I  fancy  a  singular  toll, 
And  oft  as  I  can  from  my  enemy,  man, 

I  snatch  a  reluctant  soul. 


IV. 

Then  madly  I  toy  with  the  pitiful  clay 

Which  struggled  and  gasped  and  died, 

And  into  his  arms  all  my  treasure  of  charms 
I  cast  like  a  newly  made  bride. 


V. 

I  kiss  the  warm  glory  of  hair  from  his  brow, 

And  cradle  him  on  my  breast ; 
But  his  lips  are  as  mute  as  a  stringless  lute, 
And  I  know  that  it  is  but  Dead  Sea  fruit 
My  circling  arms  have  pressed. 


1*6 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 


VI. 

Then  over  the  rapids  and  rocks  away 

I  rush  with  my  rigid  prize, 
And  anchor  him  deep  in  an  icy  sleep, 
While  friends  make  search  and  kindred  weep, 

And  a  maiden  sobs  and  sighs. 


VII. 

And  finally  swollen,  bruised,  and  black, 

I  lift  him  up  on  a  wave, 
And  heave  him  aside— this  mother's  pride- 
With  nothing  left  in  the  world  beside 

A  coffin  and  a  grave. 


VIII. 

Ay,  terrible,  merry,  and  mad  am  I 
When  some  rude  wall  intrudes 
His  bulwark  gray,  as  though  to  say 
He  questioned  my  queenly  right  of  way 
Through  the  mountain  solitudes. 


147 


SHIP  TING  SHA  D  O  IV  S. 

IX. 

I  flaunt  my  crest  in  the  face  of  the  sky, 

And  charge  with  a  mighty  shriek, 
And  the  looming  rock  gives  way  to  the  shock, 
While  echoes  fly  like  birds  in  a  flock 
From  many  a  polar  peak. 


X. 

Then  over  the  grinding  mass  I   leap 

With  my  flossy  hair  outflung, 
And  the  wind  sweeps  down  to  brighten  a  crown 
From  the  wall  of  granite,   broken  and  brown, 

By  these  fierce  fingers  wrung. 

XI. 

Then  on  and  on,   with  a  rush  and  roar 

And  a  shout  of  victory  ! 
With  a  mocking  wail  to  the  howling  gale, 
And  a  hiss  to  the  mortals  stricken  pale, 

And  mute  with  awe  of  me  ; 
Forever  on  to  the  tender  hail 

Of  my  love  in  the  solemn  sea. 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 


XII. 

A  merry  and  mad  and  terrible  stream 
Through  a  Christian  land  to  flow, 
With  dimples  that  ride  on  its  scintillant  tide, 
To  lure  the  unwary,  as  well  as  to  hide 
Its  treacherous  undertow. 


XIII. 

Be  it  so  ;    but  still,  as  the  years  glide  by, 
I  shall  gather  my  ghostly  toll  ; 

For  I  hate  the  face  of  the  human  race, 
And  the  slavery  of  the  soul. 


i49 


"TRANQUILLA." 

A  GROVE  of  oaks   whose   green    arms  interwoven 
Athwart  the  grassy  lawn  their  umbrage  throw; 
Imperial  plumes  and  clumps  of  verdure,  cloven 

By  silver  missiles  from  the  moon's  bright  bow, 
While  symphonies,  as  of  some  rapt  Beethoven, 

From  out  the  bascage  tremble,  sweet  and  low, 
And  like  a  palace  in  a  veil  of  foam, 
Amidst  the  twilight  rises  childhood's  home. 

I  wander  back  through  avenues  of  madness, 

Through  dews  of  disappointment  and  regret; 

Through  dusky  aisles  where  broods  a  sweet-eyed  sadness 
Among  the  dreams  she  cannot  all  forget; 

And  out  into  the  phantom  realm  of  gladness 
And  afterglow  of  suns  forever  set, 

Where  memory-buds  in  silent  beauty  blow 

Among  the  evergreens  of  long  ago. 


SHIFTING  SHADOWS. 

How  mightily  the  Chattahoochee  rushes 

With  wondrous  contributions  to  the  sea  ! 

How  tenderly  night's  dim  and  distant  hushes 
The  mocking-bird  invades  with  melody  ! 

While  virgin  roses  strew  the  earth  with  blushes 

And  jasmines  cast  their  curls  from   every  tree  ! 

For  in  a  spell  I  fondly  muse  and  float 

Within  the  years,  the  cherished,  the  remote. 


Above  me  Kennesaw  is  grandly  looming, 
A  stately  pillar  in  a  billowed  plain, 

The  purple  of  his  princely  shadow  glooming 
The  golden  armor  of  the  serried  grain, 

While  on  his  brow  the  rose  of  sunset  blooming 
Along  the  landscape  sifts  a  ruby  rain, 

And  one  ray-blossom,  like  a  blessing,  falls 

Upon  Tranquilla's  oak-embowered  walls. 


I  stand  within  my  chamber,  at  whose  casement 
A  deep-hued  poplar  all  his  glory  swings, 

While  here  and  there,  up-creeping  from  the  basement, 
An  ivy  leaf  its  tender  message  brings — 


SHIP  TIN G  SHA  D  OWS. 


A  leaf,  like  love,  that  overlooks  displacement, 

And  still  for  coldness  but  the  closer  clings- 
And  then  I  sigh  that  thus  its  heart  hath  grown 
Like  mine  about  an  unresponsive  stone. 


I  stand  and  muse  on  each  familiar  token 

That  hangs  before  me  eloquent  and  mute, 

Renewing  links  in  life  that  time  hath  broken, 
Out-calling  olden  chords  from  passion's  lute, 

And  resurrecting  vows  more  looked  than  spoken, 
Fair  promise-buds  that  bore  no  happy  fruit  ;- 

I  stand  and  muse,  then  sadly,  one  and  all, 

I  turn  their  patient  faces  to  the  wall. 


And  then  a  silver  bell's  soft  note  comes  stealing 
Along  the  darkness  wooing  unto  prayer, 

And  in  the  dear  and  sacred  circle  kneeling 
I  lose  the  sinking  consciousness  of  care, 

And  only  know  that  love,  and  faith,  and  feeling, 
And  constancy  are  all  united  there  ; 

While  in  the  world  but  specters  we  pursue, 

And  reaching  out  for  roses,  gather  rue. 
152 


SHADOWS    OF    DAWN 


TO  DELL. 

1. 

WANDERING  in  the  gloaming,  precious, 
Under  all  the  stars  that  mesh  us 

In  their  toils  of  light, 
Wish  I  fondly  thou  wert  folden 
To  my  heart  as  in  the  olden, 

Golden  days,  to-night. 

II. 

Listening  to  the  streams  that  darkle 
Down  the  mountain-ribs,  and  sparkle 

With  the  gems  they  bear, 
Dream  I  that  in  every  floated 
Murmur  from  the  silver-throated 

Ripples,  thou  art  near. 
155 


SHADOWS   OF  J)AWN. 

III. 

Vet  'tis  all  a  sweet  illusion, 
But  a  sunbeam's  swift  intrusion 

On  a  grated  cell  ; 
Merely  incense  floated  over 
Cliff  and  canyon  from  the  clover 
In  a  distant  dell. 

IV. 

So,  beside  the  singing  stream,  I 
Linger,  dreaming  still  the  dream  I 

Dreamt  in  days  gone  by ; — 
Idly  dream  till  morning  edges 
With  a  rosy  rim  the  ledges 

Of  the  dappled  sky. 

V. 

Ah,  the  sweet  !   and  ah,  the  bitter  ! 
Ah  !  the  mingled  gloom  and  glitter 

In  the  woof  of  years  ! 
Mountain  streams  moan  disappointment, 
And  a- weary  hope  no  ointment 

Yields  my  heart  but  tears. 
156 


TO    A    FALSE   CHARMER. 

EVrED  I  thee  ?     Ah  !    '  twas  a  fleeting 
Fancy  that  beset   my  mind  ; 
For  I  find  myself  repeating, 
Since  my  heart  is  calmly  beating, 

"Coldness  was  but  being  kind." 

Still,  the  gentle  thoughts  I  bore  thee 

Are  abandoned  with  regret  ; 

And  in  dreams  I  still  adore  thee, 

Still  as  foolishly  implore  thee, 

Ne'er  my  passion  to  forget. 

Castles  had  1  built — but  broken 

Is  the  charm   which  made  them  fair, 

And  there  bides  no  sign  nor  token 

• 
Of  our  love-tale,  looked  or  spoken, 

With  its  vows  of  empty  air. 


SHADOWS  OF  DAWN. 

Deem  not  that  I  would  upbraid  thee, 
For  thou  wert  to  me  as  just 

As  the  mold  of  nature  made  thee ; 

As  the  fickle  thought  that  swayed  thee 
As  a  woman  to  her  trust  ! 


158 


FANCIES    IN    THE    FIRE. 

I    SIT  and  look  into  the  coals  ;    they  seem 
To  languish  lazily  the  while   I  dream 
And  ponder  as  the  colored  gases  rise 
Inflamed  before  me  ;    but  my  poring  eyes 
Can  scarce  be  said  to  truly  recognize 

The  rosy  conflagration,  for  each  warm, 
Ephemeral  expression  as  it  flies 

Athwart  the  furnace  is  a  face,  a  form, 
A  picture,  and  each  fleeting  jet  of  flame 

Some  sweetest  thought  suggests.     In  idlenes: 
I  thus  commune  with  memory  till  each  same 

Familiar  incident  agone  doth  press 

Its  tender  presence.     Ah  !    I  would  confess 
That  in  this  hushed  inclosure  of  the  mind 
A  thousand  fragrant  thoughts  and  things  I  find 
Among  the  shadows. 

159 


SHADOWS   OF  DAWN. 

As  into  the  waves 

The  diver  headlong  plunges,  and  from  graves 
With  jewels  from  the  mermaids'  golden  hair 
Encrusted  plucks  his  booty  scattered  there, 
So  I  into  the  past,  by  silence  led, 
Still  dreaming,   wander,  and  I  gather  red 

And  incense-laden  memories  that  grow 
Above  the  tombs  within  the  gloaming.     Green 

The  grasses  are  along  the  path  I  know 
So  well,  and  sunny-bosomed  doves  between 
The  intervals  of  silence  coo,  as  through 
The  riven  cloud-rack  falls  a  gleam  of  blue 
In  April.     But  forever  vanished  now 

The  days  that  have  been,  save  within  the  pale 
Which  Love  hath  thrown  around  her  treasures.     Thou 
Hast  known  the  exercise  of  soul,  and  how 

Love's  arms  entwine  the  thoughts  that  do  but  sail 
Along  the  rim  of  recollection.     So 
My  heart  ;    but  dearer  far  than  all  I  know 
A  thought,  a  fairy  thought,  as  clean  as  snow, 
And  warm  as  summer  twilight  when  the  dew 
Hath  scarce  begun  to  gather  ;    and  to  you 
This  gentle  thought  its  sweet  existence  owes  ; 
I  see  a  bright  fair  face  which  ever  grows 


SHADOWS  OF  DAWN. 

By  gazing  on't  more  fair.     I  see  bright  eyes 
Look  into  mine,  as  from  the  open  skies 
The  stars  shine  on  the  sea,  diffusing  light 
Along  the  waste  of  waters  and  the  night; 
I  see — since  'tis  a  picture — little  feet 

Half  hidden,  half  disclosed,  that  barely  reach 
The  carpet ;  and  bright  cheeks  as  fresh  and  sweet 

As  tinted  morning-glories,  while  on  each 
Of  two  rich  lips  a  crimson  glory  dwells. 
I  feel  a  timid  hand  in  mine  ; — that  tells 
The  story  !     O,  the  brown  hair  on  the  brow  ! 
The  yearning,  soulful  gaze  !     To  heaven  I  vow 
My  little  one — and  thee,  that  at  thy  shrine 

Henceforth  I  worship.     Years  and  years  have  flown 

Since  first  we  met,  but  now  with  thought  alone 
My  mute  companion,  every  look  of  thine 
Comes  drifting  to  me  from  the  silent  sea, 
And  in  my  heart  I  feel,  I  know,  that  we 

Have  to  each  other  more  than  dearly  grown; 
And  in  the  picture-coals  rise  ghosts  of  thee, 
Whose  sad  eyes  look  a  soft  "Come  back  to  me." 
Would  that  I  might  !     If  strength  of  love  could  bear 
The  burden  of  a  feather  in  the  air, 

(")  161 


SHADOWS   OF  DAWN. 

My  soul's  devotion  would  so  far  exceed 
The  love  of  men  that,  like  a  bird,  I'd  speed 
Rejoicing  to  thy  feet. 

The  hours  glide  by, 
The  bells  throb  out  eleven,  and  as  die 
The  trembling  intonations,  and  the  wind 
Sighs  through  the  trees,  I  still  can  find 

A  sympathetic  sadness  in  the  tone  — 
A  plaintiveness  to  which  my  weary  mind 

Can  turn,  and  feel,  though  lonely,  less  alone 


162 


MY    SWEETHEART. 

I    HAVE  a  sweetheart  fair  to  see, 
With  hair  as  brightly  brown 
As  ever  curled  in  Paradise 
About  an  angel's  crown. 


Her  lips  are  dewy  with  delights, 
And  kissed  with  crimson  hue ; 

And  in  her  eyes  are  starry  skies 

With  love-stars  glowing  through. 


And  she  hath  lily  hands,  I  ween, 
With  soft  and  peachy  palms, 

And,  like  her  lips,  her  finger  tips 
Are  charged  with  magic  balms. 

163 


SHADOWS   OF  DAWN. 

And  merry  dancing  feet  hath  she 
That  dimple  all  the  lawn, 

When  sunrise  hurls  his  golden  curls 
Unto  the  blushing  dawn. 

The  pink  and  pearly-throated  shell, 
Which  loves  the  summer  sea, 

No  music  sighs  but  that  she  hies 
To  murmur  it  to  me. 

And  in  this  wide  old  wondrous  world 
Our  hearts  shall  still  entwine, 

Until  the  ivy's  flag  is  furled 
Above  her  dust  and  mine. 


HER    NAME. 

I    HAVE  a  friend.     Her  name  ?     Hard  by  the  rill 
Between  the  green  flags  coursing,  birds  are  singing 
And  caroling  her  name.     The  stream  which  still 

Upon  its  happy  little  breast  is  bringing 
Sweet  freights  of  broken  blossoms  from  the  hill 

Whereon  the  wild-flowers  congregate,  can  tell 
As  well  as  I.     The  night  wind  in  the  roses 

Whose  fairy  wings  beat  fragrance  from  the  bell 
Of  nodding  blossom  which  at  even  closes 

And  folds  its  curtains,  whispers,  as  it  flies, 
The  secret  of  her  name. 

Hast  thou  not  heard 

A  moaning  in  the  pines,  whose  harps  are  stirred 
By  spirit  fingers?     Hast  thou,  when  the  skies 
Are  gloamy,  and  the  soulful  twilight  dies 

165 


SHADOWS   OF  DAWN. 

Away  into  a  starry  silence,  caught 

Some  soft,  delicious  symphony  of  song 
Unborn  of  earth,  which  sweeps  and  swells  along 
The  purple  atmosphere  ?  —  a  music  fraught 
With  hints  of  summer  seas,  and  droning  shells, 
And  sweetest  violets  in  dewy  dells? 
These  breathe  her  winsome  name; — the  very  rain 
Which  patters  on  the  furrowed  window-pane 
Repeats  the  soft  refrain  —  and  yet  again, 
As  though  by  fond  reiterance  to  press 
A  dim  suspicion  of  the  loveliness 
The  words  imply.     Ask  of  the  burnished  dove, 
In  sunny  dingles  murmuring  her  love, 
The  tender  story  which  I  may  not  tell, 
The  name  which  violets  and  roses  spell 
In  perfume  —  which  the  angels  in  my  dreams 
Unto  each  other  whisper  —  which  the  streams, 
O'erhung  with  tangled  blossoms  coyly  trace 
With  mocking  waves  that  write  but  to  erase. 
Ask  of  the  twilight's  purple,  morning's  gold, 
But  ask  not  me  this  fond  name  to  unfold. 


166 


NEMESIS. 

I    CANNOT  sleep  to-night ;  a  shadow  dwells 
Upon  the  threshold  of  my  chamber  door  ; 
A  ghostly  Presence  stalks  across  the  floor 
In  silence,  and  I  feel  it  sweeping  o'er 
My  life;  while  audibly  the  midnight  swells 
From  bells  that  hang  in  churchyards,  and   from  bells 
In  belfries  everywhere. 

I  cannot  sleep  ; 

I  hear  the  rags  of  gaunt  Ill-fortune  sweep 
Along  the  isolation  of  my  room, 
And  feel  the  specter  in  the  heavy  gloom 
Infolding  me.     The  stars  in  one  huge  shroud 
Are  buried  ;  and  the  tears  from  every  cloud 
Are  dripping  on  my  heart.     Along  the  street 
The  lamplights  shed  a  glamour,  but  the  feet 
167 


SHADOWS   OF  DAWN. 

That  hurry  through  the  storm  no  comfort  bring 
Unto  my  solitude.     The  leathern  wing 
Of  this  dark  bat  which  flaps  along  the  wall 
Is  more  my  true  companion  now  than  all 

The  multitude  of  men.     My  friends — alas  ! 
I  have  none  now — had  never  !   and  I  pray 
That  in  this  life  again  I  never  may, 
To  kiss  the  cheek,  like  Judas,  and  betray. 

There  was  a  time  when  hope — that  too  may  pass 
The  butterfly  hath  turned  a  creeping  thing, 
And  where  was  erst  a  rainbow  of  a  wing 
Is  now  but  rottenness. 

I  cannot  sleep  ! 

A  dreadful  Absence  haunts  me,  and  I  keep 
Communion  with  a  Curse  whose  fingers  hook 

Upon  the  veil  about  the  future;  wide 
It  draws  the  curtaining,  and  from  the  Book 

Wherein  is  written  all  that  shall  betide, 
Such  dreary  passages  recites  that  I, 

To  horror  still  unused,  am  in  despair, 

While  prophecies  involve  the  choking  air, 
And  like  to  evil  things  on  dark  wings  fly, 


[68 


SHADOWS   OF  DAWN. 

And  circle  over  me.     I  feel  the  brush 
Of  spectral  pinions  beating  in  the  hush 
About  me,  and  I  shudder,  though  the  air 
Is  close,  and  ever  and  anon  the  glare 
Of  lightnings  brand  the  night. 

O,  cruel  Fate  ! 

Why  to  these  lips  dost  thou  unkindly  press 
Thy  bitter  chalice  ?     Why  this  desolate, 

Aweary  heart,  whose  utter  loneliness 
No  love  assuages,  dost  thou  still  delight 
In  torturing  ?     Why  dost  thou,   in  the  night, 
With  strange  creations  hem  me,  and  outpour 

Upon  my  racking  brain  this  grim  despair  ? 
Alas  !   thy  bleak  wings  through  my  slumbers  soar 

Until  I  even  dream  that  love,  so  fair, 
Is  false.     There  was  a  maiden  from  whose  eye 

No  guile  looked  out.      Her  lips  were  as  the  rose, 
The  red,  ripe  rose,  when  twilight  zephyrs  sigh 

In  spring-time,  and  the  golden  gateways  close 
Behind  the  coursers  of  the  sun  ;  and  she 
So  sweet  and  bud-like  in  her  purity, 
So  like  a  cooing  dove,  in  one  mad  hour 
Enslaved  me — and  the  fragrance  of  the  flower 
169 


SHADOWS   OF  DAWN. 

Still  haunts  me.     Ah  !    the  fevered  dream  is  flown, 

And  I  abide  in  wretchedness  alone  ; 

The  sport  of  sad  repinings  and  regrets, 

The  while  my  heart  all  other  thought  forgets, 

And  struggling  in  the  chafings  of  its  chains, 

But  wounds  itself,  and  multiplies  its  pains. 


170 


SONG  OF  LIFE. 
I. 

THROB  !     Throb  !     Throb  ! 
Tis  the  restless  heart's  refrain; 
The  burden  sad  of  the  ocean's  song, 
Sweeping  its  fretted  sands  along ; 

Tearing  the  corals  and  pearls  from  its  caves, 
Lifting  them  up  on  its  petulant  waves, 
And  dashing  them  back  again. 

II. 

Thrill  !     Thrill  !     Thrill ! 
And  the  chalice  of  bliss  runs  o'er; 
The  nestling  head  on  the  heaving  breast. 
Drooping  and  sinking  unto  its  rest, 

The  while  impassioned  arms  entwine, 
Awakening  ecstasies  divine, 

That  ne'er  were  felt  before. 
171 


SHADOWS  OF  DAWN. 

III. 

Throb  !     Throb  !     Throb  ! 
And  the  watches  vigil  keep; 
The  night  wind  sighs  through  the  cedar's  surge, 
And  Death  comes  in  with  the  ghostly  dirge, 
Closing  the  eyelids  over  their  glass, 
And  the  watchers  are    mourners,  alas  and   alas  ! 
And  the  women  bow  down  and  weep. 

IV. 

Thrill  !     Thrill  !     Thrill  ! 
And  the  music  palpitates, 
While  happy  feet  in  circles  glide, 
Like  flowers  afloat  on  a  dimpled  tide, 
Careless  of  where  their  feet  be  cast, 
so  they  haply  come  at  last, 
Through  Pleasure's  palace  gates. 

V. 

Throb  !     Thrill  !     Throb  ! 
O,  how  the  discord  swells  ! 
And  hope  and  fear,  and  smile  and  tear, 
Woven  together  year  by  year, 

Daylight  and  darkness,  gloom  and  glow, 
Mingled  in  one  weird  theme,  as  though 
Of  bridal-burial  bells. 


STILL   WILL   I    HAPPY    BE. 
I. 

WHEN  in  my  fairest  dreams 
Visions  I  see; 
Each  a  reflection  seems, 
Loved  one,  of  thee  ; 
For  in  thine  azure  eyes, 
Love  like  a  jewel  lies, 
Shining  for  me. 

II. 

And  in  my  bosom,  deep 

Cloistered  aside, 
Pure  as  a  pearl  asleep 

Under  the  tide, 
Only  thine  image  reigns ; 
No  other  thought  remains 

Love  to  divide. 
173 


SHADOWS   OF  DAWN. 

III. 

And  there  thy  vows  so  true 

Sweetly  repose, 
Like  starry  gems  of  dew, 

Clasped  by  a  rose  ; 
And  how  my  fond  heart  reels 
With  all  the  bliss  it  feels, 

Nobody  knows. 

IV. 

And  when  the  roses  bloom 

Over  my  head, 
Roofing  my  lowly  tomb, 

Fragrant  and  red, 
Still  will  I  happy  be, 
For  thou  shalt  come  to  me, 

Come  still,  though  dead. 


174 


THE   FATAL    PLEDGE. 

AONG  the  beetling  crags  and  cliffs  that  bowed 
Their  shaggy  outline  to  the  chipping  tide. 
And  threw  their  ghostly  shadows,  dense  and  dim, 
Across  the  distance,  sighed  the  summer  wind, 
And  down  the  aisles  of  air  obliquely  swept 
The  fleecy  gold  of  sunset ;  far  below, 
The  river,  like  a  spectral  mirror,  threw 
A  weird  effulgence  on  the  balmy  air 
Which  grew  nigrescent  momently — the  while, 
Upon  the  topmost  bowlder,  where  the  last 
Rich  reach  of  glory  smote  the  stately  trees 
And  drowsy  blossoms,  Hattie  sat  with   Hugh. 
The  twilight  gathered,  and  the  purpling  scene 
Waxed  into  wild  proportions  through  the  haze, 
And  mountains  rose  like  giant  obelisks 
Along  the  near  horizon,  for  the  eye 
Could  trace  but  wraiths  and  vagaries.     The  stars 
175 


SHADOWS   OF  DAWN. 

At  silent  intervals  stole  into  place, 
Until  in  troops  and  cluster-clouds  they  wheeled 
Along  the  arc  of  God;  and  then  the  flowers 
Outwafted  dreamy  incense  to  the  winds, 
And  moonlight  hung  her  royal  banner  out 
Above  the  .scene,  while  far  and  faint  below, 
The  river  sang  a  lullaby,  and  rocked 
Itself  to  sleep. 

So  Hugh  clasped  Hattie's  hand 
And  cried :  "  How  long,  my  darling,  wilt  thou  thus 
The  crowning  of  my  love  delay  ?     Thy  tongue 
The  temper  of  thine  eye  doth  oft  gainsay, 
Refuting  to  my  heart  the  neutral  speech 
Wherewith  thou  crucifiest  me.     Then  here, 
Where  earth  is  hushed  to  rest,  and  where  the  soul 
Throws  off  the  shackles  of  its  destiny, 
Give  thou  to  me  the  love  still  unconfessed, 
Yet  ne'er  refused  !      And,  Hattie,  shouldst  thou  doubt, 
Then  gauge  my  fierce  affection  to  thy  choice  ! 
Bid  me  from  this  bare  battlement  to  plunge 
Into  the  stream  which  kisses  as  it  cuffs 
The  naked  rocks  that  hem  it  !  —  and  if  I 
Shouldst  falter  in  thine  order's  execution, 

176 


SHADOWS   OF   DAWN. 

Then  doom  me,  Hattie,  with  a  cold  reply, 
And  send  me,  groping,  in  the  world  to  die." 
The  moon  hung  pale  athwart  the  eastern  verge 
As  though  to  dip  behind  the  purple  screen 
Whence  she  but  now  had  risen.      Not  a  sound, 
No  stir,  save  ever  and  anon  the  splash 
Of  multitudes  of  restless  waters. 

Then 

The  maiden  said  :  "My  hand  is  fettered,   Hugh; 
My  heart  was  always  thine — beats  still  for  thee  !" 


We  may  not  follow  tender  word  and  deed — 

Sweet  kisses  rained  on  trembling  ruby  lips, 

And  fond  avowals  bursting  from  the  heart 

Like  blossoms  in  the  tropics  !     They  agreed 

According  to  their  worship,  and  the  stars 

Looked  down  and  smiled.      Then   he;    "Take  thou 

this  ring 

In  token  of  my  faith.     In  giving  it, 
I  pledge  my  sacred  troth  to  love  but  thee." 
She  took  the  stone-crowned  circlet  from  his  hand^ 
And  drawing  from  her  finger  fair  a  gem, 
(12)  i77 


SHADOWS  OF  DA  IV N. 

Gave  it  to  him,  and  said:  "And  this  to  thee 
In  earnest  of  my  love  ;  and  it  shall  rest 
With  thee,  a  pledge  that  I  am  only  thine." 
She  held  it  forth  to  him,  and  as  he  reached 
To  clasp  the  precious  gift,  it  fell,  and  flashed 
Adown  the  arching  height.     There,  on  a  twig, 
The  rayful  stone  in  oscillation  hung, 
Refracting  Luna's  crescent  argency 
Into  a  fan  of  beams — a  seeming  sphere 
Of  flame  invisibly  suspended ;    or 
A  fallen  star,  which  wandering  down  through  space 
Had  poised  itself  mysteriously  bright 
Within  the  dripping  concave  of  the  rocks. 
"Wait  till  I  get  it,  Hattie  ! "  Hugh  exclaimed, 
As  down  the  grim  escarpment  of  the  hill 
He  frantically  sprung.     Beneath  his  feet 
The  moonlit  rocks  were  traitors,  bounding  down 
Into  the  dim  abyss,  when  trod  upon, 
With  laughter  as  of  scorn.     Still  Hugh  strove  on, 
From  danger  into  peril,  till  his  hand 
Was  reaching  out  to  seize  the  truant  pledge. 
Then  Hattie,  from  the  parapet  looked  down 
And  saw  her  lover  stretching  forth  to  clasp 
The  ring.     She  saw  him  free  it  from  the  spray, 
178 


SHADOWS   OF  DAWN. 

And  heard  him  shout:  "Now,  Hattie,  thou  art  mine! 

Then  as  her  eager  eyes  were  on  him  bent, 

She  saw  him  totter  in  the  ghostly  light 

And  grasp  the  twig  on  which  the  gem  had  shone. 

She  gazed  with  icy  horror  on  his  face, 

Turned  upward  in  a  marble  pallor.     Then 

With  one  proud  hand  he  held  the  diamond  up, 

The  fatal  diamond,  crying,  "Thou  art  mine  !" 

And  so  the  frail  twig  parted,  and  adown 

The  sullen  eminence  the  lover  wheeled. 

"Forever  thine  !"  upon  the  cliff  was  heard, 

And  whitely  through  the  night  a  dress  of  snow 

Was  fluttering  !  —  a  double  splash  —  a  hush  — 

A  thousand  circles  widening  on  the  stream  — 

A  deeper  silence  !  —  and  the  stars  looked  down 

And  kissed  the  dew-tears  weeping  Night  had  shed. 


BELLE. 

HER  eyes  are  blue,  her  voice  is  song, 
Her  hair  is  silken,  brown  and  long- 

O,  she  is  passing  fair  ! 
And  when  she  smiles,  a  sunny  glow 
Across  each  feature  flies, 
Like  some  rare  beam  that  hies 
In  winter  to  a  drift  of  snow, 

And  flushing  one  bright  moment,  dies 
In  splendor  there. 

Beneath  the  roses  red  and  rare 
She  gave  her  life  into  my  care, 

Gave  all  her  heart  to  me; 
And  when  beneath  the  mistletoe 
She  standeth  at  my  side, 
My  Beautiful,  my  Bride, 
My  soul  its  fullest  bliss  shall  know, 
Unheedful  of  the  stormy  tide 

On  Time's  mad  sea. 

180 


HEAVEN'S    ROSES. 
I. 

DEAD  of  night  :    the  world  is  sleeping  ; 
Dead  of  winter:  winds  are  weeping, 
And  a  wasted  form  is  keeping 

Vigil  near  her  empty  bed. 
Here  and  there  a  coal  is  lying 
In  the  gloomy  grate,  but  dying, 

Slowly  dying — all  are  dead. 

II. 

Poverina  sighs  !     The  chilly 
Blast  will  blight  the  tender  lily- 
Ay,  she  sighs  ;    her  'brother  Willie 

May  be  frozen  in  the  snow  ! 
And  she  listens  to  the  whisper 
Of  the  weird  wind,  waxing  crisper, 

In  its  monologue  of  woe. 


SHADOWS  OF  DAWN. 

III. 

Willie  all  alone  is  lying 

In  a  winding  snow-shroud,  dying, 

And  the  frosty  gusts  are  sighing 

In  the  bare  boughs  overhead  ; 
Willie's  heart  is  hushed  !   the  whirling 
Ice-wreaths  round  his  brow  are  curling — 

Furling,  folding  o'er  the  dead. 

IV. 

Through  the  broken  window  wheeling 
Snow-flakes  silently  are  stealing, 
And  the  orphan  girl  is  kneeling 

Like  a  marble  statue  fair  ; 
And  a  big  tear,  frozen,  flashes 
On  her  closed  eyes'  silken  lashes 

In  the  dip-light's  fitful  glare. 

V. 

How  the  storm  host  fiercely  marches 
Through  the  city's  icy  arches  ! 
How  it  twirls  the  limes  and  larches 

At  the  rich  man's,  on  the  hill  L 

182 


SHADOWS   OF  DAWN. 

How  its  ghostly  toils  are  stealing 
O'er  the  gentle  maiden  kneeling 

At  the  cot-side,  chill  and  still  ! 

VI. 

Cold  the  maiden  grows,  and  colder, 
As  the  bitter  blasts  enfold  her, 

In  the  darksome  dead  of  night  ; 
And  a  white  hand  stiffly  closes 
O'er  the  bosom  which  reposes — 
Heaven  is  harvesting  its  roses — 

And  her  pure  young  soul  takes  flight, 


183 


FAREWELL. 

I. 

IS  the  heart  I  fondly  fancied, 
Ah  !  too  fondly  fancied,   mine, 
Thus  to  twine  its  truant  tendrils 

'Round  another,  newer  shrine? 
Go  !     The  trellis  from  the  roses 

Tear,  and  trail  them  in  the  dust ; 
Let  their  perfume  not  detain  thee  : 
Get  thee  gone — if  go  thou  must  ! 

II. 

Dream'st  thou  that  a  heart  is  broken 
Like  some  handicraft  of  clay? 

Think'st  thou  'tis  a  wanton  blossom 
To  be  plucked  and  thrown  away? 


SHADOWS  OF  DAWN. 

Lady,  go  thy  ways  ;  the  rustle 

Of  thy  garments  wake  a  thrill 

Which  no  coldness  may  extinguish, 
And  a  hope  no  fate  can  still. 

III. 

Let  us  strangers  be  forever, 

And  the  sea  our  paths  divide  ; 
Let  the  cold  world  stretch  between  us — 

If  we  be  not  side  by  side  ; 
Let  the  music  of  thy  footfall 

Never  scar  this  heart  again ; 
For  the  bliss  of  being  near  thee 

Is  but  servant  to  the  pain. 

IV. 

Let  us  be  unto  each  other 

As  the  palm  unto  the  pole, 
For  I  cast  thee,  as  an   idol, 

From  the  temple  of  my  soul  ; 
And  howe'er  in  fond  illusion 

To  thy  shrine  my  heart  hath  clung, 
'Twas  upon  a  cross  uplifted, 

'Twas  a  thorn  on  which  it  hung. 

185 


SHADOWS  OF  DAWN. 

V. 

Then  farewell  !     I  loved  thee,  lady  ; 

Go  !     The  roses  still  shall  bloom 
Though  their  tearful,  tangled  clusters 

Trail  above  Affection's  tomb. 
Not  thy  hand  !     'Twere  such  temptation 

In  its  heavenly  clasp  to  die, 
That  my  soul  had  not  the  courage 

Nor  the  care  to  say  good-by. 

VI. 

Twas  not  mine,  alas  !  to  charm  thee ; 

Then  how  less  'tis  mine  to  chide  ! 
Still  in  wild  regret  I  covet 

All  the  bliss  thou  hast  denied  ; 
Ah !  thou  canst  not  know  the  longings 

Which  reflection  still  must  wake, 
Nor  the  smothered,  choking  anguish 

Of  a  heart  too  proud  to  break. 


WHOSE  IS  SHE? 

THEY  stand  in  the  City  of  Silence,  hushed 
As  the  white  stones  strewed  around, 
And  the  low  wind  moans  through  the  finger  bones 
Of  the  skeleton  trees  in  its  weirdest  tones, 
And  rustles  the  snow  on  the  ground. 

They  crouch  in  the  dim  necropolis 

With  a  sinking  and  solemn  dread, 
And  quake  with  fear  that  man  may  appear 
When  never  a  human  is  anywhere  near, 
And  only  the  evergreen's  plaint  they  hear 
Monotonous  overhead. 

Save  those  mute  two  no  mortal  foot 

On  the  ominous  tryst  intrudes, 
And  yet  they  descry  with  a  fatuous  eye 
Full  many  a  foe  in  the  glooms  that  lie 

In  the  haunted  solitudes. 
187 


SHADOWS   OF  DAWN. 

Then  silently,  swiftly  off  and  away 

Through  the  dim  white  wastes  of  night, 
While  wide  flakes  fall  on  a  face  and  a  pall, 
And  a  form  whose  witchery  shows  through  all 
Its  cerements  full  and  white. 

They  bear  their  pallid  prize  away, 

But  out  of  the  cedars'  gloom 
A  sweet  refrain  steals  again  and  again, 
As  though  by  reiterance  still  to  restrain 

The  ravishment  of  the  tomb. 
***** 

A  fond  mother  kneels  at  a  snow-heaped  mound 

And  bovveth  her  head  in  prayer, 
While  standing  above  her  the  dead  maiden's  lover, 
In  tears,  as  with  roses  he  seeketh  to  cover 

The  ashes  he  dreameth  are  there. 

And  as  the  hot  drops  of  their  grief  repeat 

Swift  graves  in  the  drifted  snow, 
They  eagerly  pray  that  the  soul  of  the  clay, 
Adorning  some  star  in  the  distance  away, 
To  them  may  look  down  in  compassion  to-day 

And  witness  their  love  and  their  woe. 

188 


SHADOWS   OF  DAWN. 

"  O  maiden  Inona  ! "  the  lad  exclaims, 

While  madly  his  hands  entwine, 
"Come  back  to  this  breast  and  its  weary  unrest — 
The  sun  of  my  life  hath  gone  down  in  the  west — 

Come  back  unto  me,  thou  art  mine  ! " 

Then  out  of  an  old  tomb  standing  by, 

O'er  ivied  and  gray,  and  grim, 
The  wind  breathes  low,  like  the  fall  of  the  snow, 
"She  is  mine!"  and  the  lover  turns  quickly  to  know 
If  man  it  may  be  making  sport  of  his  woe, 
But  naught  can  he  see  save  an  old  sad  tree, 

And  the  tomb,  and  the  lady  by  him. 

Then  out  from  the  burial-yard  they  go, 

But  still  in  the  wailing  pine, 
And  in  the  soft  dash  of  the  snow  on  the  sash 
They  listen  again  to  the  ghostly  refrain, 

"  She  is  mine  ! " 


A  SIGH  ON  THE  AIR. 

I. 

THERE  is  a  sigh  upon  the  air, 
A  fading  in  the  leaf. 
And  in  this  weary  heart,  a  grave 
Bedewed  with  tears  of  grief. 
There  is  a  loneliness  unknown 

To  men  I  daily  greet, 
Which  threads  the  desert  of  my  soul 
With  weary,  friendless  feet. 

II. 

There  is  a  dream  forever  flown, 
A  star  in  darkness  set ; 

There  is  a  bitterness  untold 
In  all  I  would  forget. 
190 


SHADOWS   OF  DAWN. 

And  from  each  broken  bud  that  bends 

In  Memory's  acre  fair, 
There  comes  unto  this  weary  heart 

A  sigh  upon  the  air. 

III. 

But  faded  buds  shall  bloom  again 

When  spring's  soft  breezes  blow, 
And  on  the  grave  with  tears  bedewed 

The  violet  shall  grow  ! 
What  though  an  idle  dream  be  flown, 

Or  one  fair  star  be  set  ! 
It  may  be  some  dim  -providence 

To  make  me  happy  yet. 


191 


FAITHLESS. 

HOW  oft  my  soul  hath  hung  enchained 
Upon  thy  wooing  tongue, 
To  be  by  brooding  silence  pained 

Or  bitter  coldness  wrung  ! 
Ah  me,  that  in  so  sweet  a  lute 

A  string  should  silent  be  ! — 

The  golden  chord,  forever  mute, 

That  trembled  once  for  me  ! 

If  on  thy  lips  a  queenly  bloom 

From  some  bright  Eden  fell, 
They  caught  a  treacherous  perfume 

From  some  dark  source  as  well. 
Ah  me,  that  lips  so  richly  fraught 

With  passion's  mantling  morn 
Could  dimple  to  a  happy  thought 

While  curled  in  cruel  scorn  ! 
192 


SHADOWS   OF  DAWN. 

If  rapture  rode  upon  thy  glance 

And  love  thy  look  oppressed, 
The  smile  but  winged  an  angry  lance 

To  pierce  my  faithful  breast. 
Ah  me,  that  eyes  so  fondly  blue 

Could  melt  with  tender  trust, 
Or  with  their  icy  lightnings  strew 

Life's  temples  in  the  dust  ! 

If  on  my  lips  the  sparkling  cup 

Of  love  hath  shed  its  dew, 
The  hand  which  held  the  goblet  up 

O'erturned  the  chalice  too  ; 
If  from  my  life  thy  voice  has  brushed 

Some  haunting  cares  away, 
The  same  sweet,  ruthless  charm  hath  crushed 

Its  idols  into  clay. 


us) 


YB    12 


